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chronicbeans · 10 months

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Puppeteer Wally Darling x (G/N) Puppet Reader

idk if this will be a series or just a one off so LET'S GOOOOOO (if you want a part two, let me know in the comments of this post.

TW: Obsessive and Possessive Behavior, Kidnapping? (Can you kidnap a puppet? IDK but we're putting that warning just in case), Controlling Behavior

Wally Darling grins widely as he puppeteers the star of the show, (Y/N) (L/N), in a scene within their home. As sad as he is that he cannot voice them, as well, just bringing their personality to life through their motions is enough for him. Voicing his beloved (Y/N) is all up to Sam, their voice actor/actress. Sam, who also happens to be out sick, today. Just like yesterday. And the day before that...

"Aaannddd... CUT! Great job, Wally. You did great! If only Sam were here. Have you heard any word from them?" The director sits back in their chair, staring at the puppeteer on set. Everybody has been asking him about Sam, today. Why are they asking him? Is it because they don't get along?

"No. Sorry. I haven't heard a word. They don't tell me anything." "Alright. Well, you can go take a break, Wally. You've been filming for about... Woah! I must've lost track! You've been filming for NINE hours straight! Isn't your arm tired from being upright for so long?" Wally shakes his head, grinning as wide as a Cheshire. "I can't feel my arm at this point... but I can keep going! I'm always happy to keep going! (Y/N) means so much to me-!"

"Take a break, Wally... And put that puppet back in the storage, will you?" The director looks over to one of the camera people, telling them to turn off the camera, before muttering to themself "He's an amazing puppeteer, but Jesus... He treats that thing like it's alive..."

He quickly runs to his little office, taking (Y/N) with him. Placing the puppet on his desk, he gives his arms a rest as he lies back in his seat. Letting out a long sigh, he looks over to the limp puppet on his desk. Sitting it up and leaning it against a pile of books and folders, he smiles. Surely, the director won't mind if he keeps (Y/N) out of that dingy old box for a little while... As long as they get back in there by the time he leaves, it should be fine.

"I wonder why everybody keeps asking me about Sam, (Y/N)? Do they think I did something to them? Sure, we don't get along, and they clearly don't have as much passion for you as I do! I would never hurt them, though! Do you think I would hurt them?" He looks down to the puppet, smiling. Of course, it doesn't answer. It still feels nice to act like (Y/N) answers and understands. "Thank you for the kind words. It really helps! I love working with you, but the others can be so stressful, sometimes!"

Wally looks away for a moment, checking a few papers on his desk. His schedule seems rather empty for the next week. He had already gotten most of the filming for the episode done today! Only two more scenes require (Y/N). He wishes that there were a few more, to be honest. He prefers working to having nothing to do all day. Maybe he-

"Where... WHERE AM I?!"

Wally's eyes widen, hearing the familiar voice. He looks over to (Y/N), seeing that they have now toppled over onto their side. Their arms flail slightly, as they squeak out "Where am I?! Who? What?! This isn't the neighborhood!"

As much as he wants to squeal with excitement, they are being rather loud. That, alongside the fact that they are voiced, and still sound like, Sam... and people are a bit suspicious of Wally for some reason... He quickly grabs them, placing a hand over their mouth as he quickly says "Be quiet! Someone might hear! I'll explain as much as I can! Just be... Quiet. Here, let me help you back upright."

He picks the puppet up, feeling them squirm a bit in his hands, then sits them back where they were. They raise their arms, which shake as they do so. As they look up to him, he feels his heart swell with joy.

He doesn't know how this has happened... And, frankly... He doesn't care. (Y/N) is talking! (Y/N) is moving! (Y/N) is... (Y/N) is alive! Shaken, yes, but still alive! It's his greatest wish come true! All the work he's put in to bring this character that he loves oh so much to life... Did he have something to do with this? Did his wish for (Y/N) to be able to talk back, move, and live a life in his world make it actually happen?

It doesn't matter. All that matters is that his little puppet is here, in front of him, and able to truly interact with him.

"What's going on...?" Their legs shift slightly, but not much. "Why do my legs feel weird? I can barely move my legs?!" Wally pats their head, saying "Shh... It'll be alright. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what is going on, either. I can tell you where you are, though. First thing's first, though... I'm Wally Darling! I already know who you are, (Y/N). Before you ask, I'll let you know how I know your name."

He goes through everything. The studio, the show, how they are a puppet. To his shock, they already knew they were a puppet, just not exactly what it meant... They didn't know somebody was controlling them in their world. The poor little thing seems so confused! It looks like their head is spinning!

He picks up (Y/N), grinning from ear to ear as he says "Don't worry, (Y/N)! I'll keep you safe! This world is large and dangerous for a puppet like you! I, as your kind puppeteer, will make sure you are safe from harm!" To his shock, (Y/N) only flails, saying "I want to go back to my world! My neighborhood!"

Wally's eyes widen. They want to go back? To leave him? He knows that it is the right thing to do, but he simply cannot have it. As much as he wants to make his lovely little puppet happy... they can just learn to be happy with him! There's no reason why they can't, right?

A simple shake of his head was all it took for them to visibly lose hope. "I'm afraid I can't do that. I care about you too much to let you go back! Think about it... I explained how your world is a show, right? It is like... think of it like a little lie. Would you rather go back to your world, cursed with the knowledge that everything you say and do, see and hear, and all your friends, are just a lie? That it isn't real? Or would you rather stay here, where everything is real?"

(Y/N) shakes their head, again. "I could go back and tell them the truth! I could let them know what is going on! I could-" "Not if I don't let you. I control what you do in that world. If I don't let you tell them, then you can't." "I still want to go home. I want to see my friends, again. I want to go back to Home and take a rest." "You can take a rest at my house!" "I WANT TO GO HOME!" "Be quiet! The others might notice! I might be treating this like it is normal, but if others saw you moving about, they would scream! Stay still-!"

Wally quickly places his hand over their mouth, again, as the director walks in. "What is going on in here?!" Wally chuckles, nervous, as he says "I'm just practicing my (Y/N) impression! You know, since Sam has been out for a while. We don't want to get behind on episodes just because they are gone! Who knows when they will be back?"

The director's eyes trail to the limp puppet in the man's hands. "I thought I told you to put that thing away! Why do you still have it out?" Wally flinches, quickly thinking of an excuse. "Well, I needed to practice not only the voice, but also puppeteering while talking. Since I usually only have to puppeteer, I thought it would help to practice doing both?" The director sighs, nodding.

Then, the best words he has ever heard come out of their mouth happen.

"Just take that puppet home with you, if you want. You clearly have something wrong in the head to be so... ungodly attached to it. You'd probably would keep it in better condition than when we leave them in the storage boxes, anyway."

With that, the director slammed the door to Wally's office shut. The puppet in Wally's arms began to move once more, looking up to Wally with fear. They immediately begin to squirm, trying to get out of his grasp, only for him to hold them still with ease. "Come on, (Y/N)! Let me show you just how much you'll love it here! I'll show you how happy your show makes the children of this world, as well as how much fun this world can be! Anything for you to stay, (Y/N)!"

He grabs a small, cardboard box, then places the struggling puppet inside. Quickly stapling it shut, he then pokes a few little holes into the top. Yes, technically, a puppet cannot breathe, but he still feels bad keeping them in a dark box during transport. Picking up the box, he takes it to his car, saying "Don't worry. The ride will be short. I love relatively close to the studio! Just stay calm, alright?"

"LET ME OUT! WALLY! WALLY! LET ME GO!!!" The box shuffles in the car seat, the puppet inside clearly being in distress as he drives down the road. "WALLY!" (Y/N) peeks out of one of the holes in the box. "I don't know what you are doing, but you are clearly not being a nice neighbor! LET ME GO!" "It's too late. Even if I wanted to, we are already at my house! Come on, let me show you around!" "You could just drive me back-" "LET ME SHOW YOU AROUND!"

He quickly swoops the box into his arms, carrying it into his house as the puppet inside throws itself against the cardboard walls, attempting to escape. He rushes inside, closing the door behind him, before placing the box on his couch. Popping open the lid, (Y/N) pokes their head out, frantically looking around the room.

Their face would've grown pale, if it could've, as they survey the room. Their expression twists, as much as their felt face could allow, into a look of anxiety and fear. Looking around, Wally is slightly confused. What could be wrong with his home? There isn't anything that is obscene or dangerous, as far as he is aware. Then, it hits him.

This place is Wally sized, not (Y/N) sized. The small puppet, who is only around 3 feet tall, give or take, will have a bit of trouble navigating his home. Especially with the fact that they don't seem used to their puppet body. Normally, he would feel bad or sorry, then help accommodate his beloved little puppet. Considering the fact that they clearly want to escape him, however...

This is perfect.

Even more so, because felt hands won't have as much traction and grip on things like doorknobs, windowsills, and the likes. It's going to be harder for them to try to get out without his permission. As much as he hates knowing that he is making (Y/N) unhappy, it truly is for the best!

"Aww... (Y/N), this will only be for a week! Then, I have to go back to work! Maybe... Maybe, when I puppeteer you at work, on set, you'll go back to your world? Just wait. If my theory is true, you'll be back in no time!" The puppet nods, folding their arms. They look away from Wally, clearly upset and full of dismay.

Wally picks up (Y/N), holding them in his arms gently, almost like he is cradling the most precious thing in the world. To him, he is. Nothing could compare to (Y/N)! The effect they have had on the children who watch the show brings him such joy. The way they talk about kindness, acceptance, generosity, and creativity is all that he has wanted to see in life. He has always wanted that kindness, that acceptance, and affection for himself! Now, he can. Now, he can have (Y/N).

His co-workers may call him crazy, saying something is wrong with him... having crushes on fictional characters is childish in their eyes- something an adult shouldn't do. They've been on his back for him talking to the puppet like it could talk back, how he never seems to let it go, and how his little obsession is made stranger, considering that he puppeteers the character. They've always told him that (Y/N) isn't real and to let go. Jokes on them, because now Wally's precious, sweet (Y/N) is real! They're real and they're his.

#welcome home #welcome home arg #wally darling #wally darling x reader #welcome home au #welcome home puppeteer wally #welcome home puppeteer wally au

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oli-draw · 26 days

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The Great adventures of Wally and his friends

The first part:

Act Two:

Wally and his friends had come a long way and were a little tired on the road, so they had to stop at a gas station to refuel the car and they had a little rest. But there was also a spy at the gas station who was hunting for someone-this is Oli.

Oli was looking through binoculars at a new copy for Valentino.

Visitors at the gas station were not suitable for Olya and she let them through until she attacked an antrophomort blue dog with colored spots - This is Barnaby.And Pom looked at Poppy, Heidi, and Sally. She is very happy about this and when she noticed that they began to gather, she began to chase them.When the guys arrived at their destination, namely the bay. They settled down for the night to rest for tomorrow. Oli took pictures of Wally and his friends from under her mother-in-law and sent these photos to Valentino via her phone.

Oli was already thinking about a plan for hunting and kidnapping.

First:Flush .

Oli dug a small hole and paved it with leaves and grass, hid in the bushes. When Eddie went to get firewood, he calmly passed her trap. The girl did not understand how he did it, because in fact the leaves and branches should crack from the heavy weight and in a place with Eddie he would crawl down into the pit.When she came to the trap and jumped on it, she fell into the pit with a crunch of branches.

- Here are the apple pancakes! Oli said angrily and came up with a new trap.

Second:Bowl

She called up a rope with a cup-shaped trap, and she wrapped the end around another tree and sealed it with a peg.

Her plan is as follows:The victim will touch the rope, the peg will come off and the Lapushka will fall on it.And voila!

That's how it turned out, someone got trapped. Oli, with joy on her face and a sense of victory, she ran up to the trap and opened it, she saw not what she wanted. A raccoon got trapped. She began to hiss at her and die a little closer. Oli began to move back and tripped over the root of a tree, she rolled head over heels back with screams, after which she fell off a cliff into the river.

A strong current began to carry the girl away.

"Save me! Somebody! I can't swim!"She screamed, floundering, swallowing and spitting. She did not notice how water was gradually getting into her mouth and she could barely breathe, after which she lost consciousness and strength, went down to the bottom.

She was completely unconscious, she did not see, hear or feel anything, only the pounding of her heart in her chest passed through her ears like the ticking of a clock counting the minutes of her life.

After a while, she woke up inside the van. She was lying on an unfolded bed. She is wearing a man's long T-shirt with four arms.

" Ugh... My head," she said, stroking her head, "Where am I?"

After looking around, she got out of bed and began to wander.Her clothes were drying, and her bag with her phone was on the table. When Oli turned on the phone, it started working completely. She let out a sigh of relief.

"Phew... Thank God," she replied and began to turn her head, looking around the place.- "Where am I? .."

Suddenly Wally enters the van, he decided to check on the well-being of the guest and when he saw that she was awake and in order, he smiled at her and said:

" Oh! Hi, honey, how are you feeling?"

Oli took two steps away and, taking a frying pan that came under her arm, she aimed it at him. As a weapon.

"Who are you?! What happened to me?" she asked in fright. "Where am I?"

"Hush, hush," he soothed her and immediately switched to her questions "I'm Wally and my friends and I were just relaxing on the beach. As soon as we saw you drowning, Barnaby and Eddie rushed to save you. They pulled you out of the water and we tried to bring you to your senses."

" Yes?"she asked and looked at her body, asked another question "How long was I unconscious?"

"3 hourBarnaby answered by opening the front door to the van. Looking at them, a smile appeared on his face "Wally, I see that she is fine.Okay. Let's go before we eat the fried sausages without you."

"Come on!" he replied and switched to Oli "Well... Will you come with us?We're frying marshmallows and sausages here."

Thinking about the answer, Oli agreed and soon she went after Wally.The others were waiting for them outside, Howdy was trying to play a tune on the banjo and choose a suitable one for the campfire. Frank, Julia, Eddie and Barnaby were gathering firewood, and Sally and Poppy were preparing the table.

"Hey, I see she's already awake," Howdy exclaimed when he saw Wally, followed by Oli. Oli was very worried and embarrassed to make contact"How do you feel, sugar?"

"Me?"Oli asked him, she doubted the answer, but soon she gave it away "Yes! I'm fine."

"That's nice," he answered her affectionately and continued to tune the banjo again.

Wally took her to a log and let her sit on it, and he sat down next to her.

"Well," he said to greet Oli and his friends." Oli, these are my friends:Barnaby, Howdy, Poppy, Julie, Sally, Eddie and Frank."

Everyone waved at her.

"Guys, this is Oli"Wally was introduced by her friends.

"Hi, I'm Oli" she said nervously and timidly"But to be more precise, my name is Olivia Flower"

"And what is Oli?"Julia asked.

"It's a pseudonym," Oli replied.

"You have a nice name," Eddie said with a chuckle, which embarrassed Oli. Soon the guys heard a strange sound like a mobile phone ringing.

"what is it?"Frank asked.

I have it!Oli replied and immediately rushed into the van. After closing herself in it, she picked up the phone and Valentino's angry voice was heard from there.

"Oli!"he shouted angrily into the phone "Where are you, you premature Clown?!"

"I am now with your goal, which I sent you."Oli replied nervously and tremulously.

"great!"He answered joyfully"And now, you need to change the route and after that you should come with them to the circus show in Cruelocity. Is it clear?"

"But.. But Sire I am."She tried to answer something, but Valentino immediately hung up the phone.

Olya was filled with fear in her veins and she was shaking, but there was nothing to do. She found a map and took a pencil with an eraser at the end, began to erase the lines and with sighs began to change the route.

After finishing her work, she sighed longingly, putting away the map.pencil and phone, got out of the van and went to the others.

"Oli, you're back!"Julia replied happily.

" yeah..."She replied through a smile, hiding her problem.

The guys had a great time together, including Oli, they sang songs to the guitar, ate fried sausages and marshmallows, told each other stories and watched the burning fireflies in the dark.It was a magical feeling that Oli had never felt anywhere, living under the wing and rod of her boss Valentino.

And when it was getting close to bedtime, the guys split up. The boys will spend the night in tents, and the girls will sleep in the van.

So they did. The guys took the tents out of the van and went to disassemble them and build them, while the girls stayed in the van overnight.

Frank was just unhappy and grumbled all the time, mumbled and muttered something under his breath, it was from the appearance of Oli.

"I don't like her," he snorted under his breath, hammering the speakers into the ground.

"What are you talking about?"Wally asked him.

"This Oli, she's kind of weird," he replied sullenly and suspiciously at her.

"Come on, have a nice day," Barnaby said amiably.

" Of course," Eddie intervened, " How can you not be nervous after she almost drowned."

"Whatever you think, but I don't like her," Frank replied angrily and sullenly.

Meanwhile, the girls were getting ready for bed. Poppy, Sally and Gilly discussed plans for tomorrow's trip, and Oli sat on the unfolded bed and thought about Valentino and how no one would suspect the boss's plan.

" Oli"Julia let her, seeing Oli's worried and even more nervous face, she asked"are you okay?"

"A... Me?" she asked Gilia and clearing her throat, she gave the answer- Yes, I'm just tired.

" Okay, good night,"Julia wished her and lay down with the others.

"Good night," Oli replied and with a sigh, wrapped herself in a blanket and began to sink into sleep.

A few minutes later, she found herself in a dark room, surrounded by darkness and only whispers complemented this environment. Bright scarlet smoke swirled and curled around the girl's half-naked body and it looked like smog from tobacco. Oli, hiding her body with her hands, trembled like a little puppy. The whisper grew stronger and the fear in the heart of a sixteen-year-old teenager overtook him to the very tip of his life, and then a voice was heard, Valentino's evil and rather demonic voice:

"Oli! You're a rotten rat!"

Turning around, Oli saw her boss's strength from a clot of alago and tobacco smoke. His eyes burned with bright bloody lights, wanting to torment the young lady.

"Why can't I ask you to do something normal?!" he shouted at her, coming closer to her.

Oli was about to run, but shackles and a chain abruptly appeared on her arms and neck. Valentino pulled them closer to him.

"You are a sweet-talking idiot!"he replied and pulled the chain with Olina's neck towards him." What did I ask you to do? Bring them here, but you disobeyed me, you bastard!"

Oli saw him shake his fist and point it sharply at her.

The girl woke up screaming, sweat and tears flowing down her body in the slightest trickle. The rest of the girls woke up from the scream.

"Oli! What in the name of the holy stars is going on?!" Sally asked sharply and angrily, but after looking at her, concern appeared on her face "Oh, dear, did you have a nightmare?"

Oli nodded and the others came up to her.

"Honey," Poppy said and sat down next to her, "I know how to deal with nightmares.

"How?"Oli asked through tears.

" Do your hair?"Julia asked.

"To remember poetry?"Sally asked.

"Can't sleep?" asked Oli.

"..No, no, no, silly," Poppy replied with a giggle, "My grandmother always sang this lullaby when I had nightmares.

Pressing Oli tightly and wrapping her in her wings, she began to sing her grandmother's lullaby:

(The song rises the moon-

Liana Flores)

days seem sometimes as if they'll never end

sun digs its heels to taunt you

but after sunlit days, one thing stays the same

rises the moon

days fade into a watercolour blur

memories swim and haunt you

but look into the lake, shimmering like smoke

rises the moon

oh close your weary eyes

I promise you that soon the autumn comes

to darken fading summer skies

breathe breathe breathe

days pull you down just like a sinking ship

floating is getting harder

but tread the water child, and know that meanwhile

rises the moon

days pull you up just like a daffodil

uprooted from its garden

they'll tell you what you owe, but know even so

rises the moon

you'll be visited by sleep

I promise you that soon the autumn comes

to steal away each dream you keep

breathe breathe breathe

#fan fiction #welcome home #the great adventures of wally and his friends #welcome home movie #welcome home au #movie au #welcome home oc #wally darling #barnaby b beagle #poppy partridge #eddie dear #sally starlet #frank frankly #howdy pillar #jullie joyful #oli flower #Valentino oc #The second act

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ghostismybbygorl · 1 year

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My sweet boy

Soap x ghost

Summary: soap takes ghost to meet his mom for the first time

Warnings: thick scottish writing, embarrassing baby photos, not proofread

"oh Mah bairn! How urr ye daein' ?!"

"Hey ma im doin well"

Johnny decided to give his mother a call to tell her the news

"Hae ye bin eating, did ye fin' a lover yit, whit's thair name, dae ye aye hae that ridiculous skin heid, och mah sweet laddie whin urr ye comin' hame we lassy you!"

"Maa!" Johnny said blushing over the phone

"Ive been fine, yes i have been eating, and yes i did find someone thats why i called you"

"Och guid! a'm sae happy youre in loue whit's thair name!? "

"His name is simon." He said nervously

Ever since johnny came out as bisexual he was always nervous about how his mom reacted to bringing home a man in his life. She was very traditional and wasn't very accepting of it but, she couldn't push her son away he was her pride and joy. She immediately warmed up to the fact that hey if her son is happy shes happy no matter what he does.

She ghasped

"A laddie! och mah loue howfur is he? does he treat ye weel? whin ur we meetin him? yer sisters lassy ye!"

"Ma!" He laughed "that why i called, simon and i have been stationed here for a few weeks and i thought it was time for you to meet him"

"Och joy mah loue! please hae him come ower fur tea ah wid loue tae catch up wi` him. Noo whit does he lik' 'n' whit doesn't he lik', is he allergic tae anythin' that a'm needin' tae ken aboot? "

"He'll eat just about anything. He's not a picky eater like me" he replied

"Thats guid peely-wally mak' a roast! ah cannae hauld yer horses tae see ye johnny! "

"Thats great ma! Hey i have to go the captains calling"

"I love you son! Forever and always"

"Love you too ma!"

Johnny hung up and walked to the debriefing room where price was going over the plans for the next mission. Once he dismissed everyone simon came over to him

"You ready to meet my family?" Johnny asked

Simon nodded "yeah im ready"

Jihnny gave him a peck over his clothed face

"Be ready by 3 and wear something nice no hoodies gitta make a good impression"

Simon rolled his eyes "roger"

Johnny was fidgeting like crazy running his hands through his hair staring at his outfit in the reflection worring about how he looked. He was wearing his kilt with a sweater over it. He liked to wear it around his family when he's visiting since it was such a special occasion to visit. He sighed fixing his hair trying to slick down his Mohawk from any fly aways. He didnt realize that simon had walked up behind him wrapping his arms around his waist

"You look great" he said kissing his cheek

Simon was wearing a black sweater with jeans and his docs. He wasnt wearing his mask revealing his scarred face.

"You ready love" simon asked

"Yeah i am" johhny replied getting into the car

The ride was quiet both boys where nervous. Simon worrying about his impression, johnny worrying about his family liking his new boyfriend.

Johnny drove down the driveway of his childhood home. His family had a cozy house with a large plot of land that had cows, chickens, and a few horses roaming around

"Looks like you where raised on a farm" simon quipped

"Oh Gang bile yer heid"

Simon chuckled grabbing soaps hand

"Everything's going to be alright don't worry" he said kissing his hand "love you"

Johnny parked the car letting out a sigh

"You ready?" He asked

"I am" simon replied giving him a kiss

As soon as johnny got out if the car he was tackled by his sister

"YOU STUPID PERSON WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME YOU HAD A BOYFRIEND" she yelled in his chest

"Good to see you too grace" he said returning the hug

Grace looked over at simon. He awkwardly waved at her "hello" he walked over and was immediately pulled into a hug. Simon awkwardly hugged her back

“So you must be the famous Simon!” she said smiling “welcome home! C’mon in the rest of the family is waiting”

Simon and johnny walked into the house where they where greeted with a Australian shepherd. Her little nub of a tail wagon a million miles an hour She jumped onto Simon barking at him and licking his hands.

“LACEY GET DOWN!” johnny's mother walked into the room holding a toddler on her side. She had the same exact features as johnny bright blue eyes long curly black hair down to her waist.

“I'm so sorry Simon she gets too excited when she meets new people” she set down the toddler on the floor where he ran straight to johnny

“uncleJohn!” he yelled waddling over to him

“Hey fergus!” Johnny scooped him up and gave him raspberry on his cheek. “Wheres your mommy?” fergus pointed to a pregnant woman waddling over from the kitchen

“Johnny you're here!” she said giving a kiss on his forehead and grabbing fergus. “Hows my baby brother doing?” she looked over to Simon and smirked “and how's the new family member doing?”

Simon blushed ruffling the back of his hair emmiting a shy “good”

She stuck out her hand “ olivia, nice to meat you” Simon shook her hand “and I'm Ferguth” the toddler said reach his hand out

“Hello fergus” Simon said shaking his hand

“Wheres pa?” johnny asked looking around the living room

“You know exactly where he is” olivia said pointing to the love seat in the corner where a man with a pot belly slept he had a baseball cap covering his face while his long brown hair stuck out every which way he had a long beard which settled down to his chest.

Johnny walked over giving his thickest Scottish accent Simon had ever heard

“Weel if it isnae th' pie-eater his-sel captain angus mactavish” he slapped his stomach waking him up from his slumber

“Ye wee wanker ah wis juist haein a guid dream” he said holding up his fists “Git yer bahookie ower 'ere ye wee jobby ah cannae hae mah son beat me noo”

Johnny and his dad fake fought causing Fergus to run over to them and fake fight with them. Angus wailed in fake pain as his grandchild hit him

“Oh me chest the wee lad got a punch to em, gonna be strong like year uncle aren't ye” he said grabbing Fergus and tickling him causing a fit of giggles. Simon smiled at the sight of Johnny's family he was reminded of his late family having fun like this (aside from kicking out his father from his family). He missed the atmosphere of what he had back then.

Fergus got out of his grandfathers lap and ran to simon "uncle john is tis your boyfwend!?" Pointing at him "it is" he replied

Fergus held his hands up wanting Simon to pick him up "uppies!"

"Oh you want uppies yeah?" Simon grabbed him settling him on his hip. Fergus pointed at his scars "you got a boo boo!" He pointed out

"Fergus!" Johnnys mom scolded him "im sorry simon this little bugger still learning his manners"

"Its alright mrs.mactavish my nephew did the same thing"

"Oh please call me liz! Mrs. mactavish is my mother in law!" Angus let out a loud laugh

"Kin that wench rest in peace" he said sighing the cross

Fergus touched simons scar on his lip

"how did you get the boo boo?" He asked

"Well i fought some bad guys like your uncle and had a bad accident causing to get boo boos on my face" Fergus gasped "did the bad guys go bye bye?"

"Yeah they did gave em a good wave goodbye"

Fergus smiled "i can make the boo boo feel better ma always does dis when i get one" fergus kissed his hand and put it on simons lip "bye bye boo boo!"

"Well look at that its all better" simon smiled he set fergus down where he ran to liz

"G-ma i made uncle simons boo boo feel better" he smiled

“You did! Well look at you ferg gonna be a good doctor one day!” she ruffled his hair causing him to giggle.

Angus got up from his seat with a groan

"Right lets see this fine man my sons datin'" angus walked over to Simon assessing his features. He put a hand on his shoulder

"Promise to take care of me boy?" He asked

Simon nodded "already do, should see em on the field definitely wouldnt make it without me"

"Oi!" Johnny chimed in "not true at all"

Angus gave another belly laugh

"i like em you should keep em john!"

Johnny rolled his eyes

A tall man walked over and put his arm around olivia “nice to meet you Simon I'm matt” he shook his hand

“Nice to meet you” Simon replied

There was a ding that came to the kitched lizs face lit up.

"Oh! The roasts ready! Everyone grab a plate!"

The whole family gathered into the kitchen

"Wait g-ma! we gotta do grace!" Fergus yelled

"Oh thats right! Simon do you want to do grace?"

Simon awkwardly stood by johnny

"I uhm"

"Ma hes not... you know"

"Oh! Its alright simon we dont have to do it" liz looked at fergus "we can do grace in our heads tonight"

Fergus looked confused but agreeds

Everyone sat the table fergus sat next to simon om his right and johnny to the left of him, angus sat at the head of the table along with matt on the other side. Olivia sat next to him, liz was in the middle, and grace was next to her father.

"So anything new since i left?" Johnny said shoving food in his mouth.

"Johnathan scott wheres your manners!" Liz said smacking his hand across the table. Johnny face turned red and swallowed his food.

"Honestly he eats like he's been starved. Oh angus remember when he ate so fast he got the hiccups for the first time" liz sighed with a dreamy look

"oh when he was a wee lad he used to run around the house nude" angus chimed in

"Or when he got a crayon stuck in his nose" olivia chuckled

"Oi it was a triple dog dare you cant break those!" Johnny huffed. His face was as red as a tomato. Simon let out a chuckle.

"He still runs around in the nude" simon chimed in

Johnny hid his face from his family blushing scarlet now. His family laughing at the embarrassing stories they had of him

When dinner was done liz gasped

"I have something to show you simon!"

She jogged upstairs and came down holding a large book

"LITTLE JOHNNYS BABY PHOTOS!" She whispered excitedly she sat on the couch patting for him to sit next to her

Simon smiled sitting and looking at the photos

Johnny was cleaning up the dishes when he heard chuckling in the living room

"Oi what the-" johnny stopped in his tracks face turning more red than before "ma! Are those my baby photos?!"

Olivia and grace snickered

"Wait till he sees the nude photos" they said to each other laughing

Simon looked at the photos grinning johnny was a cute baby. He turned the pages and saw him in the bathtub full of soap

"Oh that was his first bubble bath" liz cooed "he used to love em!"

"He still does "simon replied causing liz to chuckled

"Aww olivia look it was when we took our first Christmas photo with johnny"

"Ohh and look that was olivia first meeting johnny whats a great memory"

"Oh look at that! His first football game!" Olivia pointed out

"Looks like the mowhawk was his style" simon chimed in

"Oh yes the wee lad decided to give himself a little haircut"

She pointed to a photo of him with a bandaid on his chin

"Thats where he got that scar of his! Olivia and him wouldn't stop fighting had to tie em to a chair to get them to get along."

"That ones cute" simon pointed to him holding a baby

"Oh that was the first day we brought home grace he was head over heels for her he vowed to protect her and fight off her boyfriends"

"And i still do!" Johnny chimed in sitting next to simon locking his hands together with his

"Remember this one!" Olivia pointed to johnny in a bathrobe giving a glare "he was so mad because i ised up all the hot water" she laughed "fuckin pissed me off" johnny replied

Liz flipped the page and laughed at the photo of him sleeping on the floor "oh wee lad loved sleeping in different places look at this one he fell alseep on the counter after a football game"

Simon chuckled and pulled out his phone showing a photo of soap sleeping on their couch. Liz and Olivia let out a loud laugh "oh he never changes" Olivia said slapping his shoulder

Simon held the book now looking through the pages until he stopped at a photo of him being the goalie and right next to the photo was him and olivia on his back

"Oh thats when our schools team won the finals! For both the boys and girls team!" Olivia pointed "johnny was such a good goalie he could have been pro if he didn't enlist in the royal marines"

"Yeah i would but i wouldnt have met simon" he squeeze simons hand simon set his head on his shoulder closing the picture book

"Thank you for the photos i really enjoyed them" simon handed the book to liz she patted his back "love its always a pleasure to embarrass my son!" She laughed setting the book on the coffee table.

The whole family decided to play a couple of games until it was time for simon and johnny to go back to the base. Johnny said goodbye to his mother giving her a kiss on the cheek and giving his dad a bear hug. He hugged both of his siters and gave blew his nephew a raspberry on his cheek. Simon shook angus' hand then he was pulled into a giant hug from him

"you take care of our son you hear?" He let go of simon with johnnys mom giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek

"The door is always open for the two of you!" She said waving goodbye to them as they walked back to the car.

Simon sat in the passenger seat while johnny drive

"So that was my family" he said

He looked over to see simon sulking

Johnny grabbed his hand giving it a kiss

Simon looked at him

"they remind me if my family"

"I know they do babe, but id have ti say they absolutely adore you and my family is your family"

Simon smiled "i love you"

"Love you too bonnie" johnny replied giving simons hand another kiss

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trashcanplant · 7 months

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Random Interactions with Marnie, Grover, and Deirdre

Marnie:

She is so annoying, constantly tries to get Howdy to play the two-necked guitar and reuses the same joke over and over again when she’s buying woodworking supplies. I honestly see her as demiromantic. Marnie’s an introvert until you put her into the right setting. Like, talk to her about any niche band, particularly Strawberry Alarm Clock or The Peppermint Trolley Company and she will not shut up. Frank likes to hang around her because bugs just follow Marnie and it makes her so anxious. Her cat, Giocoso is her pride and joy and she will often leave an episode early because “she hears him crying for her.” She’s always cold so it’s always a sweater and a thick shawl. Marnie is often the voice of reason between her friends, but at the same time will body somebody if they don’t like music. “F major, B flat major, it doesn’t matter. But if you keep talking bad I’ll F you up so bad the next time anyone sees you, you’ll B flat.” If she ever straightened her hair it would reach the floor. Marnie takes great pride in her hair. She loves gingham patterns.

Grover:

Grover doesn’t like to be inside! He hates it, actually. When he can’t feel the breeze on his burlap he goes crazy. He has been caught stealing from Franks garden so he’s not a big fan of him anymore. Grover and Barnaby get along SO WELL. They’re gay, your honor. Grover is a trans man! Like, it happened over the course of a few falls but eventually he just came back to home like “nice to meet y’all ‘m Grover, that other scarecrow was my sister and told me all about y’all.” And just continues like normal. He has slept under a pile of leaves and will do it again. He isn’t a fan of Poppy, and the feeling is mutual. Grover will see you coming, hide behind a tree, and then jump out and scream at you. He is a repeat offender of breaking and entering in Marines house. Grover once got stuck in a tree while he was trying to scare birds away. He hates when people dress like scarecrows and finds Halloween to be a little bit patronizing. His favorite holiday is actually Valentines Day.

Deirdre:

Sally is her favorite and she calls her “my star”. They gossip all the time together. Deirdre likes Wally because he’ll bring her apples to share sometimes. She’s not a fan of Barnaby or Grover and has a strict “no class-clown” policy. Her favorite subject is history, but she’ll really teach whatever. Lesbian. Deirdre’s answer to mental anguish is binge shopping. She and Poppy are decently close because of their anxious habits, but Deirdre does think Poppy is a scaredy-cat and will often mix up what bird she is. Hates being called Deedee. She paints her hooves occasionally. She is the queen of gossip and rumors. Maybe she writes wish-fulfillment stories in her free time? Deirdre thinks Eddie is pretty smart and will do flash cards and memory games to try and help with his shotty memory. Her and Marnie are old friends who went to school together.

This was mostly for me so I can lay out some of their mannerisms in a place I can find it again. I like making long text posts. Yippee!

#welcome home #welcome home oc #marnie maestro #grover haymaker #Deirdre dewmoore #oc talk #oc tag #oc stuff #oc lore #oc posting #puppet oc #neighborhood interactions

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tissss9 · 1 year

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you made wally and frank look like darling little dears as dolls, i absolutely love them! i'm currently in the process of making my own dolls actually (not of wally OR frank, however, I am quite fond of the idea! maybe in the future!) and was wondering how you managed to make it so that they had changeable expressions?

Helllloooo~ it brings me great joy seeing how my work brings you such delight and inspiration!!!

As for how I made it so that they had changeable expressions, I cut out pieces of felt and just stuck them on their faces. Since Felt naturally sticks to felt really well.

Franks pupils aren't stuck in place and I only glued the ends of his mouth and eyebrow down. That way I can make him frown or smile without extra felt facial expression pieces.

Wally's pupils and mouth are set in place though. I can still make it look like he is looking side to side or down since the pupils are at the center of his eyes looking up. I use a second pair of pupils to shift his gaze.

I keep all of the extra felt facial expressions pieces such as the mouth, eyebrows and eyelids in a broken compact mirror. It has felt glued on the mirrors so that the felt pieces dont go slipping and sliding.

I hope my answers are clear enough. Feel free to ask me for more clarification. I love to see other people create, so anything I can do to help yall make stuff is a big plus for me!!! 💖

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seekingthemacguffin · 2 years

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I just finished Return to Monkey Island and I am bubbling over with thoughts.

Spoilers ahead.

I absolutely loved the prologue! A lot of people hated the narratively unsatisfying ending of Monkey Island 2, and this felt like a nice attempt to provide some closure to those of us who have been annoyed about that ending for 25 years.

I really liked the new art style. It was a bit jarring at first but the more I got used to it the more I liked it.

I’m happy they kept all the games. It was unclear prior to the release if this would be set after 2 or after 5, and I’m happy they chose not to retcon the later games. The scrapbook recap was a fun little touch.

The game managed to lean into the nostalgia without overdoing it, which is a difficult thing to balance. There were tons of really great callbacks to previous games, but there was enough new content that it didn’t feel like it was relying solely on nostalgia. Of course, I was introduced to Monkey Island when I was 6 years old and grew up playing it and bought each new game as it came out, so the nostalgia factor was intended for people like me. I’d be interested to hear how it landed for someone who is brand new to the franchise.

The tone and the sense of humor were spot on throughout the whole game. Nothing was phoned in.

I got the Switch version, and I did find the controls to be a tad frustrating at times. The point and click aspect of it would obviously work better with a mouse.

I preordered the game and therefore got the horse armor. I got a huge kick out of the fact that while you couldn’t do anything with it, the text over it in your inventory changed throughout the game.

The Mop Quest. Everything about the mop quest had me in stitches.

30 years later and we finally got the Voodoo Lady’s name!

The petty rivalry between Guybrush and LeChuck brings me such joy. LeChuck’s diary in particular was absolutely fantastic.

I love that we got to meet LeChuck’s crew.

It’s the little things, like the fact that every time you speak to Carla you sword fight, that make this so much fun.

Poor Wally can never catch a break.

I’m so happy they got all the voice actors back. It would not be the same without Dominic Armato’s voice as Guybrush.

Murray remains one of my favorites. I love that he ended up as the figurehead of our ship.

I enjoyed revisiting old favorites like Melee and Monkey Island but I was pleased we got to visit some new islands too.

I was expecting all that graffiti throughout Melee Island that looked like magic runes to actually come into play at some point but it never did.

The marketing scheme to get people to eat limes was pretty great. I will be referring to limes as sabre fruit from this point forward.

I let out a pterodactyl screech at the Adventure reference. I haven’t seen a reference to that game in ages.

The only thing about this game I did not like was the ending. I cannot believe that they gave us another bizarre ending that didn’t wrap anything up, especially since they went to the effort of trying to do something to make the end of Monkey 2 work better.

#Return to Monkey Island #Return to Monkey Island spoilers #Monkey Island

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upagainstthesunset · 2 years

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Hey all, so I’m doing a thing where I blog reading through The Flash Vol 2!

I'm not sure how often I’ll post these or how far I’ll get, but the idea is to pair visuals with my thoughts and reactions as I read. I’ve found that comics don’t really stick in my memory, so I figure this will give me something to come back to later. It’s gonna be one issue per post, so if that sounds fun and you don’t mind scrolling through a bunch of comic panels, then read on! And if you’d like to filter these posts out, I’m using the tag #katereadscomics

Now without further ado.. Flash Vol 2, Issue 1

His friends threw him such a nice party, but he seems so aloof about it. Oh so this is the girl he’s with at the start of the run. Already there’s some friction. I’ve read this and several other issues before, but I honestly forgot about Francine.

Okay I definitely also forgot this was the cross-country heart story! I had read this before I ever started watching Young Justice, and it was cool to see a reimagining of the story in the show. Ah he's already concerned about money. It seems like such a strange real-world thing to want health insurance and to keep receipts in a superhero comic, but I like that it's unusual.

And I really like how this is narrated. He's so disillusioned, but he still wants to help people. And yeah, Barry’s legacy is always there in his mind. How do you carve out your own identity and feel comfortable when you’re wearing someone else’s “skin”?

Oh he said part of my tumblr url lol. I keep wondering if someone’s going to figure out it’s a stupid pun.

I remember when I read this for the first time I was like "oh yuck this art is weirdly proportioned, and the faces have all these strange distinguishing features." But now I'm like ahh yes strange bodies and facial expressions, my beloved. This was such a memorable scene.

She wanted to see the Flash, and he got to tell her that he’s familiar with her work. She says “The fact that you exist gives me great joy.” It’s such a positive message but it doesn’t bring any light or happiness to the vibe of the story. I mean, look at the circumstances.

For the opening issue of a new volume, this has such a bleak tone. The way he says “I don’t think about it. I can’t think about it.” This man seriously deserves some therapy.

Yeah. My dude legitimately seems like he’s suffering from a deep seated depression, returning home to an empty house like he’s missed all the good parts of life.

What a goddamn rollercoaster jfc. To go from winning the lottery to Vandal bringing him a terrible, terrible gift. It’s a real “what’s in the box” situation.

Final thoughts:

Seriously, this story was such a shock when I first read it. I was going into it like okay Wally’s a funny guy, this should be some fun hijinks. NO. This was not a lighthearted romp. And it wasn’t even fantastical the way you’d expect a superhero story to be. It was a glimpse into the life of a person who has extraordinary talent, but feels empty. A person who can’t say no to helping people because his sense of duty to others is so strong, but it comes at a price. He’s surrounded by friends and positivity, yet he’s just going through the motions, and it’s narrated in this numb, procedural way. His money concerns are so interesting because it’s not something you’d ever hear from Superman or Wonder Woman or the other larger than life heroes. But here’s Wally, just a guy who runs fast trying to make ends meet and dealing with whatever happens next. Like damn dude. Just damn.

#katereadscomics #wally west #the flash #flash vol 2 #god i could analyze SO much in this one single issue #the themes are fantastic and subversive compared to how i had initially thought this comic would be #and the way its really such a character study of where wally is in his life #just ugh its so good #btw not tagging these with longpost so assume all katereadscomics tags imply longpost #ill still put these under a read more just in case

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neroushalvaus · 2 years

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Spratt!

!!! Thank you, I love him!

How I feel about this character: Mr Septimus Spratt is an ICON. He brings me so much joy every time I see him on my screen. He's funny, he's interesting, I love watching him.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: No one and that is a crime. Give Spratt a boyfriend 2k22, he deserves it.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Spratt and Denker are so entertaining to watch. During the later seasons they are probably one of my favourite parts of the whole show. I think they have great chemistry, I love their opposite energies and how their mutual dislike makes them super fun to watch.

My unpopular opinion about this character: Do people have unpopular Spratt opinions... I'll take this opportunity to say that trans or otherwise genderfunky Spratt is a great headcanon, long live Miss Cassandra Jones.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Confirmed gayness and a cute boyfriend who thinks Spratt is absolutely wonderful. It could be a bit comedic even, the boyfriend being all like "❤Septimus has such a lovely personality❤" and Denker being like "where". Also bring Spratt's nephew Wally Stern back!

Send me a character and I'll break their ass down

#thank you 💞#ask memes #everything a goddamn ordeal in area family

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westallenfun · 3 years

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Two's Company (1/3)

Westallen secret santa gift

For: Lauren (@backtothestart02) (I hope you like this fic!)

From: Lina (@cheryls-blossomed)

A/N: A special thank you to my beta, Caroline (@ginandweas).

Inspired by Jane Austen’s Emma, and the blissfulness and hardship of tumbling into true love. On the eve of publication of the most important article of her professional career thus far, Iris West realizes that she is head over heels in love with her best friend, Barry Allen, but grapples with revealing her true feelings, for fear of completely ruining their friendship. But a weekend trip to Metropolis sets in motion a series of events, with romantic mishaps and conundrums abound, that may in fact force both Barry and Iris to face some long-awaited, romantic truths.

Rated: T (Warnings: Mild language)

Perhaps the most notable visual extravagance at wedding receptions is the abundance of balloons, flowers, and the chiffon backdrops, draped like curtains, framing the table whereon sat the wedding cake.

Iris is already trying to determine how she might steal away a few balloons, because really, nobody would miss them, and she had, after all, been the one sitting with the wedding planner for days on end, painstakingly selecting a theme for the reception and agonizing over every detail. Surely, after all her efforts, a few balloons going missing at the end of the party would be forgiven, if not unnoticeable. And she would be surreptitious about it too, seeing as how she would wait until the final guests, likely pleasantly drunk on champagne, rosé, and Prosecco, stumbled their way out of the Central City Gold Hotel.

“Nice work, West.” Iris looks up to see her heavily pregnant sister-in-law take a seat next to her, while cradling a rather magnificent sundae in her hands, spoon hanging precariously atop the hazelnut fudge.

“Thanks, but don’t you call my brother ‘West?’ Could get confusing,” Iris says, raising one eyebrow.

“Yeah, but I’m married to Wally. Have been for three years. And so, it doesn’t have the same effect with him anymore. That’s the troublesome thing about marriage.”

“Classic Linda Park logic,” Iris murmurs, before once again focusing on the balloons. They are all the same shade of ivory, which made them particularly functional. For gift-giving purposes, that is. Gift-giving, Iris knows, is all about the presentation.

“No, but seriously, Iris. I’m impressed. Joe and Cecile deserve the best, and this is, honestly, the best.”

“Thanks, Linda. Dad deserves a perfect wedding day. As does Cecile. To be honest, I didn’t expect it to come together as beautifully as it did, but I’m still praying we see this thing to the end without any hiccups. We’ve got…” Iris taps the screen of her phone to check the time, “About three hours, at least, left.”

“And it’s probably especially important to you. You know, because you played matchmaker for Joe and Cecile,” Linda says, while spooning a generous amount of ice cream, topped with fudge and sprinkles and coconut flakes, into her mouth. Iris’s brow furrows,

“I did not ‘match-make’ my dad and Cecile. We’ve been over this Linda…” Linda begins to interrupt, but Iris shakes her head, “I know you seem to think that because I introduced my dad to Cecile that somehow this is my doing, but that’s untrue. To be honest, I didn’t expect them to hit it off so well, let alone date and get married within a year of my introducing them.” Cecile owns an interior design shop, which Iris had visited when she was helping Barry decorate his new apartment— a memory which immediately brings a smile to Iris’s face, for she fondly recalls Barry frantically searching eBay for a bed and a couch, and the way she had persuaded him that that was a terrible idea and instead found her way to Cecile’s trendy furniture boutique, which was also quite affordable. Cecile was so friendly and sweet, and Iris remembered her father struggling to date again, as it had been nearly a decade and a half since her mother had passed away, and so when she had thrown Barry a housewarming party, Iris figured that there was no harm in inviting Cecile, who had become friends with both Barry and Iris after hours spent together at the boutique, and introducing her to her dad. That had been a year ago. Now, they are at Joe West and Cecile Horton’s wedding reception.

“Well, we can debate semantics, but you definitely match-maked Wally and me. You can’t deny that,” Linda says, matter-of-factly, before eating another scoop of her sundae.

“I wouldn’t call it match-making. More like I have a sense for people that I know well and then introduce them, thinking that they may potentially like each other.”

“You set Wally and I up on a blind date six years ago, and now we’re married and have twins on the way. I would say there’s a diabolical matchmaking side to you. Don’t tell me you don’t feel accomplished every time you successfully match-make a couple.”

“Linda, I’ve only successfully match-maked— to use your word, which I still find objectionable, by the way— two couples. One was my brother and you. And you’re my best friend. The other was my dad and Cecile. That’s hardly a track record of successful matchmaking.”

“But it could be. Think about it. This could be a lucrative side hustle.”

“As if I would have time for a match-making side hustle, even if that was something I was interested in doing. I finally got my news site up and running, and The Citizen needs all hands on deck and then some. Besides, a matchmaking business is an exploitative way to make money.”

“Mmm, maybe,” Linda seems to ponder this, momentarily, before changing topics, abruptly, “Speaking of which, I’m your best friend now? Thought that was a privilege exclusively afforded to Barry,” Iris has heard this before and rolls her eyes, exasperated,

“My friendship with Barry is different. You know that.”

“Actually I don’t know that. But I would love to be enlightened about that.” Linda’s response is far too smug for Iris’s liking, but before she can retort, she hears a familiar voice behind her, a voice that unquestionably wraps Iris in a cocoon of warmth, so that she feels instantly home,

“I heard my name.” And although she cannot see him yet, she knows he’s smiling.

“Was wondering where you were, Allen. It’s a rare sight that you and Iris would be separated at any point, when in the same vicinity.” Barry chuckles at Linda’s quip, settling into the chair on Iris’s right and brushing away a few plastic flowers that had come undone from the upholstery. Iris glances up at him, smiling widely, which he’s reciprocating in equal measure. He sets a plate, containing a chocolate fudge brownie topped with mint chocolate chip ice cream, in front of her. Iris’s eyes widen, as she glances from the plate to Barry; her face alight with unadulterated joy.

“My hero,” she gasps, squeezing his hand and then truly taking in the scrumptious display of gooey chocolate and ice cream goodness.

“Always,” he whispers, gazing at her, affectionately, before continuing, “I was wrangling the last brownie from old Mrs. Rogers, who apparently wanted to share it between herself and her cat. Although I don’t know,” Barry pauses for a moment, glancing around the reception hall, “if her cat is even here. Doubtful. Regardless, it took a great deal of speed, stealth, and possibly defying Newton’s first law of physics, because I could have sworn that I willed the brownie in my direction without even touching it, to retrieve this dessert.”

“Don’t lie, Bear,” Iris says, her eyes sparkling with laughter, as she eagerly grabs her dessert fork, “Mrs. Rogers would never argue with you, if you wanted that brownie. She loves you.”

“Yeah, it was just my regular, old charm. And by charm, I mean, because I tutor her grandson, Matt, in chemistry.” (Linda snorts at that.) “Still, I think defying Newton’s first law makes for a better story. But nobody was getting this brownie except for you, Iris. You know, we wouldn’t be sitting here if it wasn’t for you. I mean, just look at this place. It looks fantastic,” he raves, gesturing towards the décor, “The work you put into this is amazing. You’re amazing.”

“Thank you, Barry.” She’s touched, not just because Barry managed to negotiate the last brownie from poor, old Mrs. Rogers with his rather endearing, tripping-over-his-feet-type charm, but also because he is being, as usual, so disarmingly complimentary of her. Barry never expects her to be amazing; he just thinks she’s amazing always, even when she’s at her lowest or when she is mistaken, and when Iris reflects deeply on that, it overwhelms her. It forces her to dwell on feelings untold; on how, whenever she sees him, she can’t help but smile, almost as if by instinct.

But she can’t think about it. She won’t think about it.

“Before you got here, Barry. I was telling Iris how she should really get into a matchmaking side hustle,” Linda says, forcing Iris to focus on the conversation taking place and not on… well, a place where she refuses to go. A place which she cannot explore.

“Matchmaking?” Barry leans back, resting his arm on the back of Iris’s chair. “I don’t think that’s even remotely close to anything Iris-like.” Iris is acutely aware of how close his arm is to the bare skin of her upper back, but she ignores this. Or tries to.

“Exactly. And so I was telling Linda how that’s an awful idea, and how I am pretty sure a matchmaking business, where I have zero actual knowledge about strangers’ interpersonal relationships, could be fraudulent. I can’t possibly claim to be an expert. I mean, no guarantees, right? Seems like a colossal waste of people’s money,” Iris remarks, still trying not to think about Barry’s arm on her chair, right near her back. And how (she thinks she had just imagined it but, no, it was real) he had seemingly shifted his arm, so his fingers are now grazing her skin; his touch is feather-light, equally comforting as it is emboldening.

“That could be the genius of it, though. Enough people want to pay money for a matchmaker, even if it’s probably not going to be any more successful than a dating app. Throw in some good, old Cosmopolitan level astrology knowledge for marketing purposes. And there you have it. A potentially incredibly lucrative endeavor. Maybe I should start it myself,” Linda says, while still enjoying her sundae.

“Why waste money on a matchmaker? Sometimes something incredible is right in front of you, and you just have to tell yourself it’s time to throw caution to the wind. A matchmaker can’t tell you that, only you can know that,” Barry sounds wistful when he says this, and Iris turns to him, abruptly, studying his expression. He’s looking straight ahead, but his gaze is demonstrable of clear desire, and upon hearing such longing in his voice, her stomach drops. Because that’s the face of someone in love. That’s the sound of someone in love. That’s the sound of someone who’s found their someone. But who could her Barry have found? When did he find someone?

Iris is contemplating this, her stomach churning with her every thought, when the conversation shifts to pregnancy, as Linda comments how she’s always hungry and moody thanks to,

“…These two whom Wally impregnated me with.” To which Barry laughs, his fingers still softly grazing Iris’s back, while Iris forces herself to smile along and even joke that Linda had talked her ear off about how much she wanted babies and how maybe she shouldn’t have gotten so ahead of herself. But Iris’s mind is still on Barry potentially having found someone. She knows she should be happy, monumentally happy, because Barry is happy, so she cannot fathom why she feels like she’s about to vomit. Suddenly, she has no appetite for her brownie and ice cream, but she eats to evade suspicion, because Barry would surely know something is wrong if she fails to eat her dessert. But from the way he’s carefully watching her, maybe he does know something is wrong already, and Iris wishes, not for the first time, that they did not know each other’s every fidget and expression, signaling a mood shift, so well.

When the wedding reception is over and after Iris has said goodbye to every guest and promised her father and Cecile that she would be at their house the next day for their family dinner, she manages to take three ivory balloons with her to her car, without a single guest noticing. The decorator who had stayed to help her wrap up tells her that she can take any number of balloons that she would like. Or, perhaps more practically, however many would fit in her car.

More accurately, perhaps, Iris thinks she had not been noticed by anyone, when she’d successfully managed to fit all three balloons in her car two nights ago. She’s standing on line at CC Jitters, the local hub for Central City citizens to get their morning coffee and pastry fix, and holding a basket, which contains baked goods, a carefully wrapped red scarf, and a small, navy blue bag. Tied onto the handle of the basket are the three balloons, still inflated.

“For the boyfriend?”

Iris turns to meet the friendly disposition of a blonde woman she’s never met before. Startled for a moment, Iris realizes, that the stranger is referring to her basket, and she smiles, shaking her head,

“No, for a friend.” Although, given her thoughts lately, friend seems far too simple a word. She feels like she’s perjuring herself by saying friend, but best friend who I’ve known since childhood and with whom I think I might have feelings for, but who is possibly in love with someone else seems far too complicated, especially when Iris is not ready to admit this to herself, let alone to a stranger whom she meets for the first time on the queue for coffee.

“Well, they’re lucky. You clearly put so much work into that. No friend has ever given me a gift like that. Actually nobody’s given me a gift that thoughtful before,” the stranger continues, before visibly cringing, “I’m sorry, I’m oversharing. I’m Patty, by the way.”

“I’m…”

“Iris!” There it is again, that feeling of home settling upon her shoulders, like a velvet cloak, shielding her, protecting her. Barry is walking towards her, holding two mugs of coffee, and when he stops before her, he presses his lips to her forehead briefly, a typical form of greeting between the both of them. But if he could hear the way her heart hammers against her chest whenever she feels the soft brush of his lips on her skin, then surely the ruse would be up. He would know how she feels, and so Iris is grateful, not for the first time, that her heartbeat is inaudible to anyone but her.

“Hey Bear, that for me?” she asks, nodding at one of the two mugs.

“Yep. One Americano with an extra shot. Got here earlier and figured we could beat the line,” Barry grins, and he’s looking at her as if she’s the sun, and it’s almost too intense, perhaps because of all of those pesky feelings that she’s been feeling lately, so Iris breaks their gaze, remembering herself as well and turning back towards Patty.

“Patty, this is my friend, Barry. Barry… Patty. We just met on the line.” Barry nods politely, as Patty says,

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Barry responds. “New around here?”

“Is it that obvious? I’m just about to start at CCU as a grad student. And so I’m trying to get used to the city. I’m originally from Midway.”

“Yeah, understandable,” Iris smiles. “Takes awhile to get used to a new place, but CC Jitters is the best, so you’ll never be wanting for good coffee, that’s for sure.” Patty laughs, then,

“Well, I’m glad for that. Anyways, I won’t keep you two. Thank you, Iris, for just chatting with me.”

“Of course.” The three exchange polite goodbyes, and Barry and Iris make a beeline for their favorite booth in the farthest corner from the entrance to the coffee shop; a rather secluded, cozy spot that Iris had first started occupying, when she was a journalism student at Central City University. Barry had been a chemistry major, and they met up every morning for breakfast and would come to study nearly every weekend, armed with cookies, coffee, and blankets. Iris remembers long afternoons spent in this booth, her feet propped up on Barry’s lap, his hands massaging her calves, as they studied in companionable silence.

It was in this booth that Iris had written article after article for The Central Brief, CCU’s university-wide newspaper, including her famed paper on the state of land rights of women, globally, that had won her the Scholastic Student of Journalism Prize and had given her the chance to speak in The Hague at an international conference on human rights. As Iris agonized over her field research, including research accumulated from summers of backpacking, Barry, while studying for his Protein Crystallography final, had been effusive in his support for her. He was constantly breaking from his studies to be her sounding board, should she need one, despite her reminding him time and again that he ought to concentrate on his own finals and not on her. He never listened, though, not that it in any way affected his marks. And so sure was he that her work would be honored that he’d planned a party, months in advance, before she had heard back from the National Committee for Excellence in Student Journalism and before she had been invited to The Hague.

Indeed, it was Barry who had remarked then that Iris ought to consider starting her own news media site after university, stating that she already had the credentials to draw in a large audience and investors.

“How are you feeling? About the exposé, I mean. Today’s the big day and all,” Barry says, as they settle into the booth, referring to what Iris considers to potentially be the most groundbreaking piece of journalism of her career thus far, namely an article exposing the rot of the biotechnology company, McCulloch Technologies. Its CEO, Joseph Carver, has been using the corporation as a front for a highly dangerous and illegal weapons trafficking scheme. The exposé, which is due to be published later today, will be a highly contentious article, no doubt, but Iris had long since decided that she will not rest until she sees justice through and the thousands of innocent people, caught in the crosshairs of Carver’s inhumane crimes, are safe.

“Okay. I’m trying not to think about it, honestly,” Iris replies, and Barry takes her hand for a moment,

“Hey, I get it. It’s hard not to be anxious, especially given the magnitude of the article and the far-reaching consequences it’s going to have. But I am so proud of you. And you should be proud of yourself as well,” he says, running his thumb over her knuckles slowly, before releasing her hand. Iris smiles softly, deeply touched by Barry’s faith in her,

“Thanks, Bear.”

“Of course,” he says, before gesturing towards the gift basket, “So, are you going to tell me who the basket is for?” Iris adopts a playful expression, then.

“Hmmm, it’s for this friend of mine who just submitted his dissertation for his DSc.”

“How did you know I submitted today? I told you my deadline was next week, which it is,” Barry states, apparently incredulous that Iris could have known that he had submitted his paper this morning.

“I have my ways. And by that I mean you drooling on my couch last week and mumbling, half-asleep, that you are definitely submitting your dissertation on Tuesday. Well, today’s Tuesday, Bear,” Iris teases, chuckling at the memory of Barry entering her apartment last week in need of caffeine, which culminated with him staying the night, when he fell asleep on her sofa.

“I really can’t keep anything from you,” Barry sighs in mock frustration. “Although I really wouldn’t want to, anyways.”

“Good. And think about it, now you have this nice surprise.” Barry takes the basket from Iris’s hands, admiring her handiwork, before giving her a sly smile,

“Well, I guess I know why you took those balloons from the reception on Saturday.”

Okay, so apparently she had not gone completely unnoticed. One guest had noticed her attempt to fit three inflated balloons into her car. Unsurprising, she now reflected, given who that guest happened to be.

“What? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, Iris. I may not be able to keep anything from you, but you definitely cannot keep anything from me either.” Are you sure about, Iris thinks momentarily, before banishing the thought immediately. For she will not dwell on those feelings again, not when she stands to lose too much if they start consuming her. When Iris looks up again, Barry is looking through the basket, marveling at the baked cake lollipops and banana bread and brownies (Iris can only bake sweets, and she would never subject Barry to her cooking, although he claims it’s not as bad as she seems to think it is), before he takes the red scarf from the basket. “Iris…” he whispers, her name like a prayer on his lips, and there goes her heartbeat again, pounding against her chest. “You knitted this.” And she knows that he already knows that she did, but it’s the way he’s looking at her now, like there are not any words currently discovered to express to her how much this means to him. She gives him a comforting smile, hoping to diffuse some of the intensity of the emotions that are radiating off of Barry.

“Open the rest,” she encourages, and he’s now holding the small, navy blue bag, and removing a velvet box from it. Encased in the box is a watch, which she’d been saving up for, because all of his watches are for some reason broken, and she can hear his gasp, nearly inaudible, and then he’s looking at her, solemnly, gravely.

“Iris… I don’t know what to say. I don’t… thank you,” he says, his tone soft and tender.

“Of course, Bear. I’m so proud of you, and I don’t think this simple gift basket really can quantify how proud I am of you.”

“It’s not… it’s amazing. You’re amazing,” he says, and there it is again. How definitive it is to him that she’s amazing. And perhaps she forgives herself a little for her feelings then, for how can she not feel as she does when he says things like this to her every single day. He’s already wrapping the scarf on his neck and remarking how comfortable and warm it is. “I couldn’t get better knitted scarves at the store. I’m pretty sure you’re a superhero. You can literally do anything.” She listens to him wax on about her many, unbelievable talents, which she’s sure only he seems to think she possesses, before shaking her head, affectionately,

“The scarf looks good on you. Red is your color.”

“Always has been,” he jokes, although the emotion is still evident in his voice. “Come here,” he says then, reaching his arm towards her. She leaves her side of the booth to come over to his, and the moment she’s at his side, he wraps his arms around her, burying his nose in her hair, breathing deeply. She has one arm around his back, the other clutching his sweater, and her head is tucked into the crook of his neck, and Iris is sure that now he must be able to feel how rapidly her heart is beating. She’s cloaked in warmth and in comfort, and all she can think of is home. And all she can feel is love. The kind of tumbling, head over heels into a field of daisies type of love that Iris’s college friend, Cynthia Reynolds (now a hotshot litigator who works in BigLaw and who also is the Citizen’s unofficial legal counsel), claims is simply mushy, fairy-tale nonsense that couldn’t possibly exist outside of movies. Iris had laughed then, telling Cynthia that maybe she shouldn’t be so cynical. Cynthia had been unmoved, steadfast instead in her sentiment that people can fall in love, but that kind of ‘I want to go gallivanting in a forest somewhere and run towards you in a field, as if this is some damn terrible romantic drama’ love does not and cannot actually exist in real life.

Well, Iris is feeling that mushy, fairy-tale type of love now (a fact which shocks her, despite the fact that she’s very aware of her growing pesky feelings), while wrapped up in Barry’s arms, so clearly, Cynthia had gotten it wrong. Oh fuck.

There are approximately fifteen different photos, capturing different angles of the McCulloch Technologies building, sitting on Iris’s desk when she walks into The Citizen that morning, after saying goodbye to Barry at Jitters, and all Iris can think about is the fact that she’s in love with her best friend. And as if her life could not be more complicated in that very moment, Barry is potentially in love with someone else.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

She cannot think about her feelings nor Barry being in love with some mystery human being right now, though, for she’s on the verge of publishing the explosive piece on Joseph Carver, who has been using his internationally successful technology company to peddle a highly intricate and complex hub-and-spoke conspiracy involving arms trafficking. He had managed to slither under the radar of inquiring agencies by acquiring different sorts of obscure technology, including ballistic software and parts that are often used to construct robots for laser guidance, under the guise of developing cutting-edge bio-technology. When Iris’s source had informed her that Carver’s labs were combining methane and ammonia, she knew that there was an underbelly of weapons-related criminality within the globally recognizable technology company, and armed with her pen, pepper spray, and sheer gumption, she and her photojournalist, Kamilla Hwang, had obtained press passes to Carver’s unveiling of robotic limbs. While there, Iris had asked janitors, low-level software engineers, and other personnel about why Carver’s labs were having methane and ammonia react with oxygen and how this in any way ameliorates existing biomedical technology. Iris and Kamilla eventually obtained access to a private press tour of Carver’s labs, where they noticed how jittery the staff had been, and after Iris had slipped her card to some of the employees, she had found herself, three days later, with nearly fifteen whistleblowers willing to come forward about nefarious activities in the labs.

As it turned out, Carver’s labs had been trying to create and had indeed succeeded in creating a gun that releases hydrocyanic acid, which they are currently selling on the black market. This is the latest of extraordinarily dangerous weapons that Carver sells both domestically and internationally. Indeed, several politicians are in cahoots with Carver; Carver having made them rich men, in exchange for avoiding Congressional inquiries into McCulloch Tech.

Now, Iris stands poised to publish the most explosive exposé of her career thus far, and the thought is both exhilarating and terrifying.

She studies Kamilla’s photos of the McCulloch Tech building, now having to decide which one would accompany the headline that is due to go up right before noon. One photo stood apart among the rest: a shot of McCulloch Tech at night, illuminated by the lights of the city, but with only one floor of the building, the top floor, indicating any activity: the lights of the top floor were on, and the rest of the building was largely camouflaged by the night sky. That top floor contained the only working laboratory at headquarters and is where hydrocyanic acid is processed. This is the photo, Iris thinks, just as she hears a commotion at the door and sees her newest hire, Allegra Garcia, forcefully wrangle open the door, rather dramatically, before slamming it shut.

“Hey, boss,” Allegra says. “We have got to get that door fixed. I’m telling you; it’s trying to kill me every time I arrive.” Iris chuckles fondly at Allegra’s dramatics,

“You’re the only one who seems to be constantly battling the door, Allegra. There are four other people who work here who seem to have no trouble getting in and out of the office.”

“Well, I don’t know, but this door has had it out for me since I began working here. And so… oh! Are those the photos? How much time have we got until noon…?” Allegra pauses momentarily, as she taps her phone, which she was holding in one hand, “Forty minutes. Fantastic.” Iris smiles, watching Allegra race up to her desk, excitedly. Two of the reasons that she had hired Allegra was for her enthusiasm about reporting and for her passion for ethical journalistic integrity, both of which she demonstrated every day on the job.

“This is the one I want to use to accompany the article,” Iris explains, while pushing the photograph towards Allegra, whose eyes widen when she sees the photo.

“Yeah, this is incredible. I know Kamilla must have camped out awhile to get this shot,” she exclaims, before looking up at Iris, “We’re really gonna do this, boss. We’re gonna expose Carver and who knows? You might win a Pulitzer from this.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We have to publish the exposé first, and our legal team has been sending me messages since this morning about how she is obligated to warn us about frivolous defamation suits that Carver might file in the immediate aftermath. But the truth is more important. Let Carver sue us; if he does, he’s going to lose anyways.” Although, to be completely accurate, the Citizen’s unofficial legal team, comprising of one Cynthia Reynolds, whose texts to Iris consisted of, “Carver is definitely going to sue you for defamation, so I’ve got to warn you of that, but screw that guy. Publish and destroy him once and for all,” were certainly more emboldening than averting. Iris is also quite certain that that is technically not sound legal advice, in the least.

The door opens again, and in walks Kamilla, joined by the two other reporters at The Central City Citizen, Kara Danvers and James Olsen. They’re all chatting animatedly about the exposé and the explosive ripple effects its publication might have.

“He’s an absolute monster,” Kara tells James, no doubt referring to Carver. “I mean, hydrocyanic acid? The sheer inhumaneness of his crimes just to fill his coffers…”

“Evil folks will do absolutely anything to satisfy their greed, including murdering people,” James observes, and Iris knows this is perhaps a fundamental truth of which every investigative journalist must be aware. Kamilla walks up to Iris’s desk and grins when she sees Iris scanning the chosen photo onto her computer,

“That’s the one, isn’t it? When I captured it, I knew I had gotten it. It took me, I think, nearly five hours of camping out, and it was 2:45 AM yesterday when I finally had managed to take that photo.”

“It’s incredible, Kamilla,” Iris praises. “All your photos are great, but this one is fantastic. It captures exactly what we need to accompany the article.” When Iris had taken this on by herself, she had been wary about putting any of her reporters in danger, but Kamilla had insisted that she accompany Iris in order to take photographs. In hindsight, Iris is incredibly grateful to have had Kamilla by her side through it all, for her calm, steady demeanor was vital amidst the insanity of taking on Joseph Carver. Kara and James, who have caught up to the others, both make approving noises, congratulating Kamilla on her photography, as Iris continues to work to format the article.

When she is satisfied with the formatting, she taps her phone, seeing that there is roughly twenty minutes remaining until the deadline, and while her reporters are chattering excitedly, the door opens once more, and Iris is greeted by the sight of Wally carrying two champagne bottles in one hand and precariously balancing a few glasses in his other hand. On his heels is Barry, who is carrying a large white box with the words ‘Zulma’s Pastries’ emblazoned on the top, and Iris is flooded with that fairy-tale, gallivanting in a field of daisies feeling again, to which she now finds she is already getting accustomed, which is a somewhat terrifying thought.

While Iris has some idea as to why both of them are in her office, she is also aware that Dr. Wally West is supposed to be at work at Central City Hospital, and Barry is supposed to be meeting the Dean of Graduate Studies at CCU about a potential professorship.

“What are you two doing here?” Iris asks, smiling nonetheless, for she is touched that they likely took time out of their busy days to celebrate the publication of the exposé. She had not mentioned the details of the publication to them, in an effort to protect her sources, but Linda had let it slip to Wally that Iris is publishing the article on Tuesday at the wedding on Saturday, and Barry… well, Barry knows everything about Iris, just the way she knows everything about him, so his appearance in her office twenty minutes before she is meant to publish the most important exposé of her professional career is even less surprising than Wally’s.

“I can’t believe you thought we weren’t going to come and crash this… pathetic party, quite frankly,” Wally says, frowning as he takes in the Citizen office, which while buzzing with the excitement of determined reporters, is not exactly set up for any sort of impending celebration. “You have nothing here to celebrate, Iris. No food, no drinks, nothing.”

“We haven’t even published, and we have no idea of the repercussions of a piece like this, Wally. I think our sheer grit as reporters is celebratory enough.”

“We knew you were going to say that,” Barry chuckles, placing the box on a desk adjacent to Iris’s, and then helping Wally with the champagne glasses. “But Linda and I wanted this to be a surprise. We managed to get Wally to help, which is good…”

“Linda’s not feeling well,” Wally cuts in. “She was having awful morning sickness, and I told her I didn’t want to go and that Barry could do the heavy-lifting, but she threatened me and sent me away with two of our best champagne bottles.” Iris begins to protest, but Wally continues on, “And honestly, Iris, before you say anything, I’d rather get an earful from you about leaving Linda at home for this— and by the way, she’s feeling much better, thanks to the fact that I’ve finally perfected the art of making a ginger and mint smoothie— than defy her orders.”

“Glad to see your theatrics are still in top form,” Iris deadpans, before turning to Barry, pointedly, “Thank you, Barry. You and Linda really didn’t have to do all of this. I haven’t even published it yet.”

“Excuse me, I helped!” Wally interjects, and Barry is laughing now as Iris reaches up to give him a quick hug, which he returns immediately. As they break apart, Barry’s hand lingers on her arm.

“You’re welcome,” he says. “I wanted this to be a surprise and that’s why I didn’t mention earlier coming by later on. And I knew you could have used a distraction this morning from thinking about the exposé.”

“I did need a distraction,” Iris smiles, still keenly aware of his fingers slowly brushing against her arm, gently, tenderly.

“I imagine you did. But to reiterate what I said earlier this morning, I’m so proud of you. So, so proud of you.” He cups her face with one hand, gently caressing his thumb against her cheek, and he’s gazing at her with so much emotion in his eyes, and she knows that the same intensity that had radiated off of him when she’d gifted him the basket earlier this day is emanating from him now, and she cannot help but wonder if he feels what she feels, because in these moments, she’s sure he must be.

Wally clears his throat loudly, while pouring out the champagne, and both Barry and Iris break away from each other quickly. When Iris looks up at Wally, he’s giving her that same look Linda had given her at the wedding reception on Saturday, when she had clarified that her friendship with Barry was different. Unwilling to entertain the idea that Wally and Linda have discussed her feelings for Barry, she turns to her reporters, who were already opening Barry’s box of sweets.

“Brownies!” Kara yelps, eyeing the chocolate chip, fudge brownies and quickly grabbing paper plates from the Citizen’s supply cupboard.

“Thank you, Barry! We really needed this,” James agrees, while Kamilla and Allegra join their colleagues in helping themselves to the scrumptious sweets and expressing their gratitude.

“We’re not going to get any work done today, but it’s fine. Thanks, Bear,” Iris laughs, as Barry hands her a glass of champagne. They clink their glasses together, before sipping their respective drinks.

“The Citizen can use a break. Especially you,” Barry says after a few moments, giving Iris a pointed look. “You’ve had countless sleepless nights over the research for this, and now it’s ready for the public to read. You deserve a whole week long break, at least.”

“The news doesn’t stop for me to catch up on sleep, unfortunately. I have three upcoming potential stories, including the ways in which exam software companies have violated the privacy of examinees.”

“Sounds like you’re about to become the hero of every university student everywhere. I can’t believe the vagueness of some of those disclaimers that exam software companies put out, as if students have any choice but to use them, when they have examinations online.”

“Yeah, exactly. And if nobody holds their feet to the fire, they think that they can get away with anything. That’s why I’ve got to do it.”

“Iris West saves the world yet again. That should be a headline. Maybe I should pitch it to Central City Picture News. Think Scott Evans would run a headline on his biggest rival?”

“Scott would definitely do it, if it brings CCPN good business. Besides, our rivalry is more friendly than anything else. That said, ‘Iris West Saves the World Yet Again’ sounds more like I’m saving the world with superpowers, not the power of a pen and a public audience. I think you might be overselling me just a little bit.”

“Absolutely not,” Barry says, affronted. “Iris West is my hero, and she always has been, so I think you’re underestimating her. She’s a total superhero.”

“Doubtful.”

“Don’t try to tell me that you’re not a superhero, Iris. You’re definitely not going to win this argument.”

“Fine, I’ll level with you. Because you know what they say, right? Every superhero has her own hero? Well, if I am a superhero, then I have a confession to make: my hero happens to be this guy I know… superheroes need strength to be invincible, right? So yeah, this guy is my constant strength. Maybe you know him? Name’s Barry Allen?” Barry blushes furiously at that, ducking his head bashfully, and Iris thinks, Success! She knows she’s rendered him flustered, and he’s so adorably handsome, as he fidgets with his hands, as if searching for something to hold. But even despite his flustered state, he remembers the ongoing debate, and he manages a,

“Alright, alright. You win, Iris.” Iris smiles at him, radiantly and triumphantly, just as Wally makes his way over to them, holding a champagne glass of his own, and he’s got a rather sheepish look on his face, which immediately makes Iris suspicious.

“I know that face, Wall. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Not every expression of mine means something,” Wally says, immediately defensive. “Although, I do have to ask you a small favor. But really, it’s not a favor, because it’s actually going to be great for you. So it’s technically a favor, but a favor that you’ll enjoy.”

“Of course you think so. What is it?” Iris asks, tiredly, knowing immediately that she probably was not going to enjoy this favor as much as Wally seems to think.

“Okay, so you know Cecile’s godson, Eddie Thawne? He couldn’t come to the wedding, because he was away on an emergency business trip?”

“Yeah, I know Eddie,” Iris responds, confused as to what he had to do with whatever Wally was asking of her. Eddie Thawne was the son of Cecile’s best friend, a wealthy hotelier, and he’d been friendly enough in the few interactions that Iris had had with him, but she could not claim to know him all that well.

“Right, so he’s hosting this gala in Metropolis for dad and Cecile this Saturday. It’s very last minute, found out last night, actually… and well, I’d told dad I was going to go, because you know, one of us should go, right? Technically, both of us should, but dad didn’t want to trouble you, because you’ve been so busy with work, and it’s not a big deal. In fact, I think dad didn’t want you to know, because he thought you might get the wrong idea and think that this gala was going to upstage all the work you put in for the actual wedding and reception, which I kept insisting to him you wouldn’t think at all. And I don’t want to leave Linda, even for the weekend. She keeps telling me she’ll be fine, and I know she’s not due for another two months, but I’m not comfortable going.”

“So, you want me to go,” Iris says, knowing exactly what her brother was asking of her. On the one hand, traveling to Metropolis for the weekend for a gala made Iris nervous, because she did not want to leave Central City for at least a week after the McCulloch Tech article was published, but on the other hand, Wally could not be expected to attend, and it would be wrong if both of them missed a gala that was being held for their dad and Cecile.

Wally is apparently under the impression that Iris might need some more coaxing, so he puts his champagne glass down and reaches into his coat pocket, brandishing four plane tickets.

“Here, the flight tickets are on me. Eddie is putting people up in rooms at his family’s hotel, and he apparently booked four rooms between the two of us, so we could each bring some guests. With Linda and I not going, you’ll have at least three rooms to fill.”

“It’s fine, Wally. I’ll go. You’re right; we should go for dad and Cecile, and you honestly cannot and should not go. I just have to find people who can take a trip with me, last minute…” Iris knows whom she would want to invite, and so she turns to Barry, immediately. “Look, Bear, I know it’s short notice, but…”

“Yeah, I’ll come,” Barry agrees quickly, before she can even finish posing the question, and Iris notices that he has a slightly agitated expression, which worries her. His hand clenches the edge of her desk, rather forcefully, and so she places her own hand over his, reassuringly, and this seems to relax him, at least momentarily, as she can feel some of the tension in his muscles evaporate slowly. He smiles, then, perhaps trying to mask his sudden agitation, “My weekend’s free, and we were just talking about how you could use a break, Iris. This’ll be good, as it’s a vacation of sorts.”

“Thanks, Barry. I’ll also ask Cynthia; she could always use a break, and Bear, why don’t you invite someone?”

“I’ll ask Cisco.” Iris glances up at Barry, and they both share a knowing look: they had been trying to get Cynthia and Barry’s old college roommate and engineering genius extraordinaire, Cisco Ramon, to meet for ages (So much for swearing off match-making, Iris thinks then), but they had not had the chance to introduce the two of them yet. This trip might just provide the long-awaited golden opportunity.

“Perfect,” Wally says, considerably relieved, but before Iris can respond, she finds herself surrounded by her fellow reporters who are telling her that it’s just before noon. She nods, waiting until everyone is gathered around her, and Barry’s arm comes around her shoulders, providing her with both comfort and strength. And while a sudden, rather dignified silence, perhaps to mark the solemnity of this publication, descends upon the Citizen, Iris can feel the soundless excitement of Kamilla and of Allegra and of Kara and of James, as she publishes the exposé on the Citizen’s website.

Thus, late that Friday afternoon, Iris finds herself boarding a plane with Barry, Cynthia, and Cisco, in tow, and she’s only half paying attention to Cisco’s exuberance in describing his latest inventive feat at S.T.A.R. Labs, the product technology company he works for, because Barry is acting… odd. He has been acting odd since he had accepted her invitation to come along to Metropolis, and she cannot fathom what it is about this trip that has him so on edge. He is fidgeting so much, and every time he notices that she notices, he gives her a forced smile, as if to divert her suspicions away from his agitation, but that only serves to increase her worries. Whatever is bothering him so much is something that he apparently is unwilling to share with her.

“…It’s insane. I mean, if we get this right, we will be revolutionizing tablet computers and robotic interpreters,” Cisco is saying, and Iris is sure that if Cisco is put to the task, he and his team certainly would get it done, for she had witnessed his genius first hand before, when, during a birthday party for his best friend, Caitlin Snow, a few years back, the power had blown and there had been no backup generator, and Cisco had managed to create a temporary power source seemingly out of thin air. Iris is sure that there were numerous devices at Cisco’s disposal, and he’d had the aid of Caitlin’s then boyfriend now husband, Ronnie, also an engineer, but it was the sheer ingenuity of Cisco’s engineering ability and the sheer determination to get this done and to ensure Caitlin had the party that she deserved that was so impressive.

“If anyone can get it done, though, it’s Cisco Ramon,” Iris voices her thoughts, and Cisco smiles proudly,

“Thanks, Iris. It’s definitely going to be a lot of work, but I definitely think we’re headed in the right direction. Hopefully.”

“Hmmm, it all sounds impressive, but what are the patenting ramifications that come with such a unique project. Surely, you’re worried about somebody trying to build upon your product once it’s out in the market. How stringent is your patent going to be?” Cynthia, ever the cynic, adds, eyeing Cisco.

“I don’t want to hog all the spotlight, honestly. We want other people and companies to be able to build on our findings and develop even better tech. There’ll be a patent, but it’s not going to be exclusive.”

“You’re way too nice.”

“I’m just here to improve tech. Being nice isn’t a crime, I hope,” Cisco laughs, and Cynthia shakes her head fondly, clearly believing Cisco to be naive, but apparently endeared to his naiveté nonetheless. Cisco and Cynthia, still playfully arguing about the stringency of a future patent, take their seats in the middle row, and Iris and Barry, the latter who is still distracted, sit by the window across the aisle.

“Bear, what’s going on?” Iris sighs, finally, turning to him, once they’ve taken their seats. Barry looks up at her, startled and guilty, and immediately starts deflecting,

“Nothing. I’m fine, Iris, really. I’m sorry, I’ve been a bit out of it. Just… I don’t know, I’m fine.” Iris can tell that he’s not going to be forthcoming with her, no matter how persistent she is, but she is not ready to drop the issue entirely.

“I’m not going to press you, but you know that if something is bothering you, I’m always here, if you want to talk. You know that, right?”

“Of course I know that. Of course I do,” Barry says, his voice tender. “And I’m the luckiest guy in the world for it. I’m sorry that I’ve been out of it the last couple of days, I just… I don’t want you to worry about me. That’s the last thing I want.” Iris can tell he’s struggling between telling her and being evasive, so she takes his hand in her own, their fingers interlocking almost instinctively. She squeezes his hand, as his thumb brushes against her knuckles.

“I’m going to worry, because it’s you, and so I can’t not worry, but I don’t want you to tell me anything when you’re not ready to.” Barry’s free hand comes to cup her chin, as he brings her closer to him, and she basks in the warmth of his hand against her skin. When his lips meet her forehead, she closes her eyes and relishes in his lingering kiss, and she knows… she knows that she’s unequivocally in love with him, and she’s sure that she has been for quite some time, and all she wants to do is lift her face and coax his lips to hers, but she can’t. She knows that she can’t. She can’t ruin their equilibrium, because if she were to admit her feelings and lose Barry’s friendship completely… that is a possibility that she cannot risk.

“I know how deeply you care. And I love you for it,” he whispers against her forehead. And I love you for it.

He’s told her he loves her so many times over the two decades that they’ve known one another, and she knows that he means it platonically, as he always has, but that doesn’t stop her from imagining that he loves her in the same way that she loves him.

And when Barry falls asleep, after the plane takes off, and drops his head, so it rests comfortably on her shoulder, his face turned into the crook of her neck, so that she can feel his steady breaths fanning against her skin, Iris leans her head against his, and she thinks that this is what true tranquility feels like.

And I love you for it.

#westallen #westallen secret santa #submission

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chronicbeans · 1 year

Text

To be Timeless, for the Sun (A Short Welcome Home AU Story)

Looks like you were snooping around in the Boss' office! Let's see what you find! Oh! And don't get caught! (I really gotta find a name for this AU I have going on-).

TW: Cults, Narcissism, Mentions of Killing, Written Descriptions of Gore

☀️What are you doing? This is a bad idea. Snooping around in your boss' office after work hours is simply devious, at best, if not outright criminal! If curiosity killed the cat, however, your pelt would be hung up and dry if you didn't do something to satisfy that curiosity. After all, satisfaction brought that curious cat back, right?

☀️You have seen your boss, William Dorelaine, entering the Playfellow Workshop after hours. He even brings a group of people with him. Most of those people look the same, with only one person being different everytime they enter. You never stick around long enough to see them leave. He has also taken to talking, more than usual, about how he knows great things. He has always had narcissistic tendencies, but something is causing it to grow.

☀️You turn on your flashlight, peeping around Mr. Dorelaine's office. The first thing your eyes snap onto is the large Welcome Home poster behind his office chair. His favorite character has always been Home, for some reason, and this poster has Home front and center. Turning around, you see the little Home figure on his desk, alongside a matching Wally Darling figure. His desk is a mess, with papers strewn about.

☀️You flash the light up, seeing the numerous clocks in his office. How many clocks does one man need? Most of them don't even seem to be working, as the hands are still as stone. The wallpaper is odd, too, with its sun and moon patterns. You have been noticing the increase of day and night murals around the studio, but you always thought it was for the childish art style and not the contents of it. Or maybe something like "the sun will always rise tomorrow"? To make a children's show, you need a positive attitude and to be in the right mood to do it. Now you are starting to realize that your boss might just like suns and moons. Good for him, you guess? It isn't hurting anybody, after all.

☀️Then, you spot it: a book on his desk, with a symbol on it. It looks sort of like a sun, with a crescent moon in one half of the circular center, and an hourglass right in the middle of it all. You assume it must be a diary of sorts, due to the little lock on the side. Diaries are the only book that you can think of having locks on them, after all. Mr. Dorelaine has always been pretty crafty, after all. He loves to modify things to make them "more beautiful" in his eyes. Considering his apparent love of suns and moons, as well as his clock collection, it wouldn't be that odd for him to put a design like that onto his diary. After all, the two hatchets by his door have little designs on them. He decorated everything.

☀️You pick up the book, and to your surprise, it is unlocked. How odd... You flip through it, starting at the first page. "The leader has told us to write down our experiences in his care. That is what I shall do, with great joy." You raise an eyebrow. So this is a diary, of sorts. Just a bit more complicated. Leader? You really are starting to feel like you have found something you shouldn't have. You can't stop now, though. You might as well read further. You could take it home with you, but Mr. Dorelaine will then notice that something so important is missing. He'd probably do anything figure out who it is that took it...

☀️You flip forward a few pages. "The great leader took me in when I had nowhere to go. Fresh out of college, he saw my brilliant potential, unlike the others. I was a wayward soul with no control over myself. This waywardness made me have no purpose in my life. He took me in and corrected me. He showed me the brilliant sunlight of the divine dimension waiting for those who take the good path in life. He gave me purpose."

☀️You feel uneasy... this sounds like a cult. You regret not taking your camera with you. You could've taken pictures of this if you brought it. You don't want to call the police without adequate information, though. You need to read just a bit further. Flipping ahead, you find a page that has a smudged, red thumbprint on it.

☀️"It was a bit scary, at first. However, the leader told me it was a necessary deed. The divine plan for my brother's show couldn't be completed with him in the picture. It was after the party, when he was walking to his car, that we took him to the leader. My heart was pumping so hard and fast that I could hear it in my head. Everything was a blur that night. The last thing I remember of that night was taking a hatchet and cracking his skull open, before red covered my shoes. I then..."

☀️You slam the book shut. You have to get out of here. NOW. You were right when you read the first part. This is something you shouldn't have seen. You need to call someone. The police! You have something to tell them that is going to make them start an investigation. Even if the first part, about the odd, cult like behavior isn't enough to cause them to look into Mr. Dorelaine, this part about his brother? It is going to be enough. You turn around, and-

☀️There stands William Dorelaine, a scowl on his pretty face. He shuts the door, locking it as he asks "Snooping around my office? Explain yourself. Now. What did you see?"

☀️Your face must be as pale as a ghost, right now. He continues, grabbing one of his two hatchets and walking over to you. No... no, no! The diary entry... This isn't good! "Are you proud of yourself? What did you see? How much do you know?" You swallow thickly. It is probably better to be honest, right? You are much more scared of lying, only for him to catch it and get more angry. If you are honest, there is an ever so slight chance he might spare you, right? You open your mouth, saying "I umm... I saw the book. I'm sorry! I won't tell anybody about what I read! I-"

☀️He shushes you, glaring down at you as he moves the hatchet in his hands, as if daring you to speak out of turn. "I can't trust you. Do you know just how important all of this is? Just how important YOU are?" You raise an eyebrow, shaking your head. He chuckles "Of course you don't. Unlike myself, you haven't seen the light. I have been waiting for an excuse to get you tangled up in this community I am a part of. You would be perfect. Curious, wayward, no future plans or purpose outside of the present... Just like I was before I was brought in."

☀️You shake your head, causing that scowl to return to his face. "You should be grateful that I am sparing you. You'll soon see. Our purpose is to become timeless. To worship our sun for eternity, so that we will bask in its glory and warmth. It is far too much for me to explain at the moment. It is unfortunate we had to have this conversation under such... unfortunate circumstances. Don't worry, though. We will care for you."

☀️ You're trapped. As he was speaking, his friends entered the room. Looks like you have no choice but to go along with them...

☀️"You'll see. Welcome Home is just the start of something far greater. Just wait and watch."

#welcome home #welcome home arg #welcome home au

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longitudinalwaveme · 3 years

Text

Playing With Fire

The Flash stars in: Playing with Fire

Dramatis Personae

Wally West, the energetic and cheerful third Flash

Iris Allen, a charismatic reporter, the wife of Barry Allen, and the aunt of Wally

Heat Wave, alias Mick Rory, a dim witted and surprisingly friendly pyromaniac

The Pied Piper, alias Hartley Rathaway, a Robin Hood-esque thief

Mirror Master I, alias Sam Scudder, a melodramatic thief and talented inventor

Script

Act I

(Iris is onstage, writing. Enter Wally)

Wally: Hi, Aunt Iris!

Iris: (Looks up from her paper) Hi, Wally! What’s up?

Wally: I was just dropping by to see my favorite aunt.

Iris: Well, it’s nice to see you. How’s my favorite nephew?

Wally: Aunt Iris, I’m your only nephew.

Iris: So? Can’t you be both? (Wally nods)

Wally: I’m doing great! How are you?

Iris: Wonderful! You see, I’m writing this terrific exposé on corruption in the mayor’s office, and my editor really thinks it could win me an award-maybe even a Pulitzer!

Wally: Wow, Aunt Iris, that’s awesome! The award, I mean, not that there’s corruption in the mayor’s office. I always knew you’d be world-famous someday!

Iris: In speaking of world famous, is there anything new on the superhero front?

Wally: Surprisingly, no. I haven’t heard anything from any of the Rogues for more than a month. It’s kind of nice to have a break, honestly.

Iris: I’m sure Linda and the kids appreciate it, too.

Wally: Yeah, it’s been great! It’s always nice to have more time to spend with them, especially since, with my speed, we’ve been able to tour half of Europe’s museums.

Iris: I never thought of you as a culture buff.

Wally: You don’t know everything about me! I mean, part of my charm comes from my air of exotic mystery! (Iris laughs)

Iris: The tour was Linda’s idea.

Wally: (Sighs) Yeah, it was her idea. How did you know?

Iris: Because you’re a terrible liar. Seriously, “my air of exotic mystery”? The only thing remotely mysterious about you is how you thought that that would be a convincing story.

Wally: All right, you’ve got me there. (Pause) But museums are so boring! Nothing ever changes, and everyone moves so slowly! In the time it takes Linda to look at one statue, the kids and I could speed through the museum a hundred times, but we aren’t allowed to! It’s like watching sports, only a thousand times worse! It’s just too slow!

Iris: Everything is too slow for you, Wally.

Wally: I can’t help it! I’m a speedster!

Iris: So are Barry and Jay, and I’ve never heard them complain about museums. I don’t think this is a speedster problem. I think this is a Wally problem.

Wally: Because I’m impatient?

Iris: Well, yes, but also because you got your speed much younger than Jay and Barry did. Your uncle thinks that because of that, your powers had a greater effect on your body and your mind than it did on theirs-and that your kids will probably be even more affected than you are because their powers are natural.

Wally: Oh, joy. I’ll never be able to deal with two mes on steroids for fifteen years!

Iris: Look, if I was able to deal with a ten-year-old you with no powers, you should definitely be able to deal with your kids. You’ll be fine.

Wally: If you say so, Aunt Iris.

Iris: I do. If you can save the world, you can do this.

Wally: I think saving the world is easier.

Iris: So, what are Linda and the kids up to now?

Wally: They’re at the library. Linda’s been taking Jai and Irey to Storytime for about a year now, and they seem to like it. The only complaint I’ve heard is that they enter and leave the library way too quickly, but given their powers, that might be unavoidable, at least for awhile.

Iris: I’m glad your kids like the library. Bart avoids it like everyone in it has the plague.

Wally: Even with all the great comic books there?

Iris: Yes. He just seems to hate books on principle. He says that he has trouble processing words because his eyes move too fast for him to fully comprehend what he’s seeing. Did you ever experience that?

Wally: All the time! It was lucky that I liked to read books before I got my powers, because otherwise I’d probably never have opened a book again. Speedster brains work so much faster than average that if we don’t focus, it’s basically impossible to read anything, and since he was in the Speed Force for such a long time, Bart probably never learned how to focus. If you want him to read more, you’ll have to teach him how to focus first.

Iris: Could I employ your help on that?

Wally: Of course! Who do you think taught my kids how to focus?

Iris: Thanks, Wally. Barry’s been trying to help him, but Barry loves to read, and, like I said, he got his powers in his twenties. His brain chemistry isn’t as altered by his powers as Bart’s brain chemistry is by his.

Wally: Hey, no problem. What else are favorite nephews for?

Iris: In your case? Comedic relief.

Wally: Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week!

Iris: (Laughs) Never change, Wally. Never change.

Wally: I’m not planning to, Aunt Iris. (Pause) Hey, are you hungry?

Iris: No, but I’d imagine that you are. Do you want to get a mid morning snack?

Wally: Aunt Iris, you read my mind. Let’s go eat!

(Exit Both)

Act II

(Pied Piper is onstage, playing an instrument. Enter Mirror Master and Heat Wave)

Heat Wave: (To Mirror Master) See, Scudder? I told you he’d be here!

Mirror Master: (To Heat Wave) How did you manage to find him? Even the Flash can’t find him when he doesn’t want to be found!

Heat Wave: It ain’t really that hard, Sam. Our little buddy over there’s a bleeding heart, so when he ain’t with us and ain’t in jail, he’s almost always on or near Baker Street.

Mirror Master: What does the Piper want with Skid Row?

Heat Wave: Where’s Skid Row? I just told you that this is Baker Street!

Mirror Master: (Sighs) It’s a figure of speech, Mick. “Skid Row” is just a term for a rundown, dirt-poor neighborhood like this one. Why would the Piper come here?

Heat Wave: Because it’s rundown and poor. Don’t you know that Piper gives everything he steals to poor people?

Mirror Master: Well, yeah, I know, but I didn’t think he lived with them.

Heat Wave: He lives with us , don’t he?

Mirror Master: We aren’t poor!

Heat Wave: Scudder, both of us are high school dropouts. Neither of us has ever had a legal job. We almost never get to spend the money we steal ‘cause the Flash busts us before we can. I grew up in a one-story, two-bedroom farmhouse, and you grew up….hey, you grew up here! In what world are we not poor?

Mirror Master: I had a Ferrari….

Heat Wave: That you stole. And that the Flash returned to its original owner after three days.

Mirror Master: Not the point! I’m the most skilled inventor on the planet! I invented solid holograms and teleportation and a weapons system more sophisticated than any army’s! I discovered another dimension, for Pete’s sake! I’m not poor! (Piper stops playing)

Heat Wave: You’ve never made money off of none of that, Sam. I know you’re real smart-I’m just saying that neither of us is real rich.

Mirror Master: Okay, maybe not, but I’m not living in the slums.

Heat Wave: Yeah, because prison is so much better.

Pied Piper: The two of you are aware that I can hear you, correct?

Mirror Master: HOW?

Pied Piper: My parents spent 20 million dollars on ‘curing’ my deafness with hearing aids, and they received their money’s worth. My hearing range goes up to 45,000 hertz, about the same as a dog’s, and is generally extremely acute. I hear everything, and even if I did not, you two were not exactly being quiet. (Pause) Why are you looking for me?

Mirror Master: Wait….your parents spent twenty million for one operation?

Pied Piper: My parents have a net worth of 55 billion dollars. They could have spent five times that amount and not even felt it. (Pause) But I digress. What brings you two here?

Mirror Master: You.

Pied Piper: My skills or my companionship?

Heat Wave: Both!

Pied Piper: I trust that one of you has a target in mind, then?

Mirror Master: Of course I do. You see, a certain Ms. Portia Storme, a famous actress and debutante, is coming to Central City to donate some of her jewelry to Central City’s History Museum at 2:30 PM but I think that those jewels would be a lot more useful to us than to any museum. I can get us into the museum, and then you can hypnotize Ms. Storme and the patrons long enough for us to steal the jewels and split. What do you think?

Pied Piper: And if one of the Flashes shows up?

Mirror Master: That’s what Heat Wave’s for. He’ll wait outside the museum and, if the Flash shows up, he’ll distract him long enough for us to make our escape. Once we’ve gotten back to my pad safely, I’ll pick him up via Mirror Realm.

Pied Piper: That sounds like a solid plan. I’m in!

Heat Wave: Great! The more the merrier!

Mirror Master: Okay, now that that’s established, we can shoot the breeze for a bit. How have you been, Piper?

Pied Piper: Physically, I’m as fit as a fiddle. Otherwise….I’m homeless.

Mirror Master: Again? How’d it happen this time?

Pied Piper: Well, I actually bought a little apartment a couple of weeks ago, but then I ran into this couple who were raising their granddaughter because their daughter is addicted to heroin, and their apartment was falling apart, so I gave them mine, and I was going to get another one with money that I swiped from a movie star, but then I met this poor man who was suffering from some sort of mental illness, so I had to pay for him to go to a mental hospital, and then I gave the rest of the money to help pay for the cancer treatment of a young father with four little children.

Heat Wave: I’ve got some money saved up, buddy. Do you want me to give you some?

Pied Piper: No, but thank you. I’m young and quite robust. I’ll be fine.

Mirror Master: Yeah, until you freeze to death.

Pied Piper: It gets that cold here?

Mirror Master: We’re covered in snow for half the winter! Yeah, it gets that cold here! Have you never ended up homeless in the winter?

Pied Piper: Well, no. I was only evicted from the apartment I was renting with the money I took from my parents six months ago. My sporadic homelessness is a recent thing.

Mirror Master: Word of advice, then: don’t give any of the money from this heist away.

Pied Piper: What? Why?

Mirror Master: Because it’s already November, and if you don’t get a place to stay soon, you’re going to be out on the streets in the dead of winter.

Pied Piper: Better me than a child!

Mirror Master: Dude, your hypothetical child is ten times more street savvy than you are.

Pied Piper: And has none of the luxuries I was spoiled with as a child.

Mirror Master: So? They don’t know what they’re missing. I should know. I was one.

Pied Piper: And yet you now deny being poor so vehemently.

Mirror Master: (Pause, searching for response, but not finding one) Fine. Do whatever you want. But don’t blame me when you’re sleeping on the streets in that threadbare jacket in single degree weather!

Heat Wave: (Trying to change the subject) Hey, who wants lunch? After all, it’s never good to rob a museum on an empty stomach.

Pied Piper: Well, now that you’ve mentioned it, I am a little hungry. Where were you thinking that we would go?

Heat Wave: Uh, whatever makes you guys happy, I guess.

Mirror Master: Hmm…. I’ll have to reflect on that.

Pied Piper: I didn’t really have anything in mind, either.

Heat Wave: Okay then. Um….how about that barbeque place that opened a couple weeks ago?

Mirror Master: Sure, why not?

Pied Piper: That works as well as the next place, I suppose.

Heat Wave: All right, then I guess it’s settled. We’re going to eat some barbeque!

(Exit all)

Act III

(Wally and Iris are onstage)

Wally: So, do you have anything else planned for today, Aunt Iris?

Iris: Yes, I do. Portia Storme, the famous actress, is donating some of her family heirlooms to Central City’s History Museum at 3 PM, and I found out this morning that Picture News is sending me to cover the story.

Wally: Portia Storme? As in the Portia Storme who starred in The Superhero who Loved Me ?

Iris: Yes, that Portia Storme.

Wally: Are you allowed to bring a guest? I'm her biggest fan!

Iris: No such luck. I’m attending for business, not pleasure.

Wally: Darn it! I’ve wanted to get her autograph since I was fifteen!

Iris: I wonder what Linda would think of that.

Wally: Aunt Iris! It’s not like that! I just think that she’s a talented actress!

Iris: And the fact that she’s widely considered to be extremely attractive has nothing to do with it, right?

Wally: Aunt Iris !

Iris: Don’t worry, Wally, I know you love Linda. I was just teasing you.

Wally: Oh. Okay. Then tell Portia hi for me.

Iris: I will. In fact, I’ll even get her autograph if I can.

Wally: Thanks, Aunt Iris! You’re the best!

Iris: You’re welcome, Wally. (Pause) Oh, and would you mind telling your uncle where I am when he gets off work? I didn’t learn that I was covering the museum story until after he left for work.

Wally: Of course I’ll tell him!

Iris: Good. I don’t want a repeat of the “Flash Marathon” debacle.

Wally: The Flash Marathon debacle? What’s that?

Iris: You don’t remember that time that I was assigned to cover the Flash Marathon of 2010 at the last possible second and Barry didn’t know so he ran halfway around the world looking for me?

Wally: Oh, yeah, I remember that now! He took me out of Calculus to help find you!

Iris: Poor, dear, Barry. He was so embarrassed when he found out that I was fine.

Wally: He was embarrassed? I had to explain to my Calculus teacher that I had cut class to rescue someone who wasn’t in any danger and then I got detention!

Iris: That may have had something to do with the fact that you’d cut class the previous week to get Chinese food from China, Wally.

Wally: What can I say? I was-

Iris: Hungry. I know. (Wally vanishes and returns with food) Wally: Want some authentic fajitas? Or some escargots?

Iris: No, thank you.

Wally: Okay. More for me. (Eats food)

Iris: How does Linda keep up with your appetite?

Wally: Oh my gosh! Linda! I told her I’d pick her and the kids up from story time, and I completely forgot about it! I’ve gotta go get them! See you, Aunt Iris! Bye! (Exit Wally)

Iris: That’s my nephew. (Pulls out paper) Let’s see. Now, where was I? Oh, right! (Begins writing) “A careful examination of the city’s funds reveals that 20% of the city’s funds have been diverted to an undisclosed project which does not correspond to any known public works project that has been discussed by the city council. Detective Jared Morillo, who headed the investigation, stated that “We’re almost certain that at least one of the elected officials of the city has been misappropriating funds,” but declined to provide further details, so I did some digging of my own and uncovered a document that revealed that four members of the mayor’s cabinet have been funneling tax dollars into their own private accounts, and that one of them, Mr. Franklin Jones, failed to press charges of robbery on the Pied Piper out of fear that his own misdeeds would come under scrutiny.” This article is going to be great!

Act IV

(Enter Pied Piper, Heat Wave, and Mirror Master with a water bottle)

Mirror Master: (To Heat Wave) How did you manage to eat two buckets of that barbeque? My mouth felt like it was on fire after I ate one piece!

Heat Wave: You should try a ghost pepper sometime, buddy. If you thought that was hot, you haven’t seen nothing yet!

Mirror Master: I’ll pass. (Guzzles water) I’ve had enough eye-watering for a year.

Pied Piper: I’m so glad that I ordered the salad.

Heat Wave: You don’t know what you’re missing, little buddy.

Pied Piper: When I was seven years old, I had lunch with the President of India. That meal contained enough spice to put me off strong seasoning forever, so I am quite aware of what I’m missing.

Mirror Master: You’ve been to another country?

Pied Piper: (Embarrassed) Actually, I’ve been to twenty other countries, and to several more than once. My parents wanted to maintain their global connections, so the visits were a necessity.

Heat Wave: (To Mirror Master) His parents are stupid rich, remember?

Mirror Master: (Enviously) Right. (Pause) Well, if this heist goes right, by 5 PM tonight, we’ll be stupid rich too. Let’s get to the museum! Heat Wave, you’ll be alright by yourself?

Heat Wave: Of course I will, buddy.

Mirror Master: In that case, we’re set to go, Piper. It’s time to make some money!

(Cut to another room, where Iris is. Pied Piper and Mirror Master enter)

Mirror Master: (To Pied Piper) Where is everybody?

Pied Piper: (To Mirror Master) How should I know? This is your heist!

Mirror Master: (To Pied Piper) Captain Boomerang told me that Storme would be here at 2:30, so where is everybody?

Pied Piper: (To Mirror Master) Wait….you learned about this from Digger ?

Mirror Master: (To Pied Piper) Yeah. Why?

Pied Piper: (To Mirror Master; growing increasingly louder) Because he’s Digger! If he knew about a potential target and didn’t go after it himself, it could only be because he was drunk! He must have given you the wrong time!

Iris: Who’s there? The museum’s closed to visitors today! (Gasps) You!

Mirror Master: (To Pied Piper) Nice going. Now somebody knows we’re here! (To Iris) Hey, Mrs. Allen. Long time no see.

Iris: What are you two doing here? Pied Piper: Our intent was to steal Ms.Storme’s jewelry, but apparently we had some erroneous information and so we showed up before she did. What are you doing here?

Iris: I’m here to report on the donation of the jewels, and you two are under arrest.

Mirror Master: And you’re going to stop us from escaping how?

Iris: (Pulls out a gun) I’m licensed to carry a firearm, that’s how.

Mirror Master: YOU HAVE A GUN? (To Piper) This would be a good time to do some hypnotizing.

Pied Piper: (To Mirror Master) Before or after she shoots me? (To Iris) All right, we surrender. (Iris handcuffs them)

Iris: I’m so glad that Barry let me borrow those in case I ever needed to pull a citizen’s arrest.

Mirror Master (Aside) Beaten by a girl...this is so humiliating….

Iris: Really? That was way easier than I anticipated.

Pied Piper: Well, I didn’t want you to get hurt, Mrs. Allen. I really admire you. Your exposé on the plight of inner city schools was phenomenal!

Iris: You read my articles?

Pied Piper: Of course! Your crusades to better this city are worthy of the highest respect. You are quite as much of a hero as your husband, Mrs. Allen.

Iris: Why does a thief care about the betterment of anything? Pied Piper: Mrs. Allen, I only steal from those who can afford it, and, quite frankly, who deserve it, and only to give to those who need it. I may operate outside the normal legal parameters, but I only do it because working inside them will get me nowhere. The 1% control the system, so until the system is changed, I have to work outside it if people are going to get real help.

Iris: So why don’t you just help better the system legally instead of breaking the law and getting yourself into trouble?

Pied Piper: Because someone has to help even the score in the interval, and, frankly, because it helps absolve me of my own guilt. I spent the first twenty-two years of my life living in scandalous luxury, without a thought for anyone but myself. My parents paid to cure me of deafness that would have been a permanent disability in anyone else, I had a closetful of clothes I never wore, I owned three cars before I could drive, and I had more toys than I could ever have used. My parents paid my tutors to ensure that I made high grades, and then they bribed my college to make sure that I was on the top of my class. If I’m on the streets and being thrown in jail now, it’s no more than what I deserve.

Iris: Do you mind if I record that? I always thought that there was something fishy about your family’s empire-other than you, I mean.

Pied Piper: You’d better not. My parents would pay through the nose to make sure that that story never got out, so there’d be no point.

Mirror Master: Uh, as much as Pied Piper’s daddy issues fascinate me, would you mind calling the police or the Flash already?

Iris: Oh, right. (Pulls out phone) Hey, Wally, I have some supervillains for you to pick up. (Pause) What, are you surprised? I didn’t become a famous reporter by being timid. (Pause) Yeah, I’m just fine. (Pause) No, no one else was in danger. Mmm-hmm. Uh-huh. (Pause) No, I’m not going to fight supervillains on a regular basis. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time and facing the right morons. (Pause) All right. See you soon. Buh-bye. (Puts phone away) Back to jail for you two.

Mirror Master: I’m thrilled . (To Piper) Let’s pretend this never happened, okay?

Pied Piper: That sounds good to me!

Act V

(Heat Wave is onstage. Enter Wally)

Heat Wave: Hey, Flash! Seeing you really burns me up! (Shoots fire plume in the air)

Wally: Heat Wave?

Heat Wave: Yeah, that’s me! I hope you aren’t going to fight me, because that would be-

Wally: Playing with fire. Yeah, I know. Heat Wave: (horrified) You stole my pun!

Wally: Hey, you know what they say: It takes a thief to catch a thief.

Heat Wave: But you’re not a thief!

Wally: Yeah, I am! I stole your pun!

Heat Wave: (Laughs) Hey, that’s pretty good. You should’ve been a comedian! (Shoots fire at Wally, who dodges)

Wally: That’s what my aunt tells me. So, what are you doing here?

Heat Wave: Making stuff burn.

Wally: Well, yeah, I can see that, but I know you can’t be operating alone, because where there’s smoke, there’s fire, and when there’s fire, there’s you, and when there’s you, there’s the other Rogues. What are you guys planning? (Dodges another blast from Heat Wave)

Heat Wave: Stay still! (Misses again)

Wally: Why, so I can move out of the frying pan and into the fire? No, thanks!

Heat Wave: Hey, stop taking all my puns before I can use them. I don’t have that many!

Wally: Aww, stop being such a hot-head, Heat Wave!

Heat Wave: I bet you think you’re so smart! Well, you won’t feel so smart when Mirror Master and Pied Piper escape with all the loot they stole because I distracted you!

Wally: Oh, so that’s why you’re here. Well, I hate to break it to you, but they’ve already been captured. (Takes Heat Wave’s gun)

Heat Wave: They’re captured? I gotta go rescue them!

Wally: Uh, you might find that difficult without this. (Waves gun)

Heat Wave: Hey, give that back!

Wally: Nope. Finders keepers. (Handcuffs Heat Wave, then brings out Pied Piper and Mirror Master) Here’s your pals. If it makes you feel any better, you get to go back to jail with them.

Heat Wave: Hi, guys!

Mirror Master: Hey, Mick. I guess you got caught, too?

Heat Wave: Yeah.

Mirror Master: Ugh, I don’t believe this! How did we get defeated again ?

Heat Wave: Don’t feel too bad, buddy. You know what they say: If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again! We’ll get lucky eventually.

Mirror Master: Shut up and let me mope.

Pied Piper: (To Wally) Tell your aunt to keep up the good work, won’t you? Wally: Um...sure. And just so you know, my offer still stands: serve your time and then help us help people the right way.

Piper: I’ll...I’ll keep that offer in mind.

Wally: Great! And we’re off! (Exits with them, re-enters alone. Enter Iris) Great work, Aunt Iris!

Iris: Aww, it was nothing...and hey, I’ve got a guaranteed front-page story! (They high-five)

Wally: You know what? All that fighting made me hungry! I’m gonna go eat! Love you, Aunt Iris!

Iris: I love you, too! (Exit Wally) Ooh, just wait until I tell Barry I defeated two supervillains!

#flash rogues #wally west #dc comics #fanfic

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rustdream · 4 years

Text

Mustache Kid makes a New Friend hee hoo

Yea! A smol story for @promisedangel‘s roleswap AU! I wrote this at night so some things may be grammatically incorrect. I hope this is good!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The air was full of tension as Mustache Kid stood infront of the ice walls that surrounded her destination. By some sort of miracle, they were perfectly intact, despite the immense heat the forest gave off daily. While it’s a neat discovery all on its own, it would mean that she would have to bust her way in. She was taken out of her thoughts when she heard a chuckle behind her. The voice belonged to none other than the Matriarch, the ruler of Subcon and the pain in the butt that’s been threatening her into doing favors for her. “It’s quite the feat, isn’t it?” The shadowy being asked, floating besides the girl.

Mustache Kid sighed in annoyance, causing the ghost’s angelic features to distort. “Now don’t take that ton with me, child. This will be different than the other favors you’ve done!” The passive aggressive tone had set in, as she feigned cheerfulness. The Matriarch clasped her hands together, “You’ll be delivering a gift to my special Prince for his birthday!” Mustache Kid turned to her as the gift box was born from red flames, the embers forming the luxurious bow. As much as she hated to admit it that box had a pretty darn cool shade of red. “Okay…but why don’t you do it? Since it’s your gift.” Mustache Kid questioned, as the Matriarch’s expression softened. “Oh, how I wish I could give him the gift myself! Unfortunately, my temper had gotten the better of me and…we got into a fight. Now the poor thing’s scared of me.” It was clear that queen of Subcon was being exaggeratingly dramatic right then, as she had no qualms about threatening children with execution twice fold. Still, the kid didn’t have much choice, as the box was shoved into her hands. Mustache Kid had a couple of moments before she realized that her bombs were gone. “Hey!”

“Oh and, by the way. The Prince is very finicky, so these,” The Matriarch held the bag of bombs in her hands with the heat threatening to set them off, “are out of the question. Now get to it.” As Mustache Kid jumped through the ice pillars infront of her, she could her the cold-hearted monarch say something about burning her if she was to break the box. But she was used to those threats, and there wasn’t much to worry about anyways. She continued, occasionally having to break the walls with the fiery fruits and Dwellers hiding around. Eventually she had made it to the other side of the labyrinth of walls and was immediately hit with the extremely cold weather. She adjusted her cape to cover herself and waded through the thick snow, in the direction of the manor in the distance. When she neared the front porch, she could see glowing yellow eyes peer at her through the attic window for a quick second, before blinking out of sight. Hopefully, this ‘Prince’ wouldn’t be as much as an immoral jerk as the Matriarch was. She went to knock on the door before the wood had turned to ice and being rendered unopenable. Mustache Girl groaned as she kicked an ice statue near, but her attitude quickly changed to fear when said statue came to life and tried to smash her head open. Running from living creatures of cold terror, she had ducked into the cellar in the back and shut the doors. While one might think this wouldn’t stop them from breaking in, it did. In fact, they seemed to leave as soon as the door had locked!

Well, she already made it in the house, might as well deliver it personally. She skidded through the cellar floor, the spilled wine having been frozen over the years. Managing to make it upstairs without busting her bust on the slippery ice, she was relieved to find that the rest of the house’s flooring wasn’t in the same state. Mustache Kid wandered down the hallways, the carpeted floors keeping her footsteps quiet. Suddenly, she had heard the sound of glass breaking coming from the room besides her. In an act of impulse, she opened the door, leading her to the library. There didn’t seem to be anyone in here. A broken vase sure, and an ice sculpture that was whispering to her. Wait. On closer inspection, it was a Wally! Though, he was frozen everywhere but his head. “Hey, Little Mustached Child, why are you here?” He asked, his voice shaky and low. Before she could answer, the air grew darker as footsteps could be heard. “Quick! Hide, Get out of Here!” Mustache Kid wasn’t about to question it, she simply slid under the low bookshelves, the gift box conveniently fitting through with her. Just in time too, as a shadowy figure entered the room. It had the same aura that the Matriarch gave off, but its figure was slightly deformed and monstrous. It was safe to assume that this was the Prince that she was referring to. His yellow eyes scanned the scene, panic present in them.

His head snapped towards the Wally as the frozen man panicked. “H-hello Best Friend! I was being clumsy and um, knocked it over-” He frantically tried to explain, as the shadow interrupted him. “You promised, you promised that you wouldn’t break any more stuff last time you broke these. You broke my things, gifts to you last week and you said, ‘Wally will fix that’, ‘Wally won’t break stuff again’. But did you live up to that? No nononono, you didn’t you just lied and lied, and you know how I HATE liars.” The Prince ranted, as the ice on Wally’s body consumed more of him. Mustache Kid watched as he was frozen completely and smashed to pieces by this raving lunatic. The shadows mad shrieks soon dissolved into tears, burying his head in his hands. Mustache Kid slowly crawled out of her hiding spot, placing the gift behind the sobbing mess. She then tried to tip toe her way out of the room before a voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Who are you?” The Prince spoke through sobs, as the girl turned to meet his gaze. She seemed to stammer quite a lot, obviously nervous. The royal’s gaze slowly drifted to the nicely wrapped gift between them, the sight swinging his mood straight into a happy delirium. “Did you bring this gift, a gift for me? I’m good enough for gifts?” He asked hopefully, pure joy blooming inside his chest when she had nodded. The Prince chuckled as he suddenly swooped both the box and Mustache Kid in his arms, straight to a bedroom. This caused the kid to become upset, not understanding why he was doing this. But, he simply placed her on a pile of pillows, as he ‘sat’(more along the lines of coiled on) the bed with the gift in his lap. As he tore open the wrapping, Mustache Kid looked around to determine her situation. Everyone but the two of them were frozen solid. Some of them are seals, cats, a lot of them Wallies. “Great, this might as well happen.” She mumbled, as she heard the Prince gasp in surprise. Well, she’s kind of stuck here, might as well find out what the gift was!

A pile of bacon. That was literally it. It wasn’t even good, all of it was charred to crispy charcoal. However, the Prince was very happy to receive this gift. He started scarfing it down quickly, as if as soon as he stopped it would be all gone. He then froze up suddenly. He could hear them. His friends, they were hungry too. They deserved this gift more than he did, and he’s just hogging it like the selfish friend he is. He doesn’t deserve such a nice thing as this, with how horrid he was being. Of course, Mustache Kid didn’t hear any of that. She just looked on in confusion as the Prince went around the room, trying to shove bacon down the ice statues’ throats. Though that went as well as you’d expect it to, as it either fell out (with the Prince eating it anyways) or it just stayed in the mouths of the frozen creatures around him. He made it to Mustache Kid, offering her a handful of burnt bacon. “Oh um, no thanks. I’ve already. Eaten on the way here you know and, snacks aren’t my thing?” She refused, thoughts of an elaborate escape plan flooding through her mind. The Prince sat back on the bed, facing away from everyone as he consumed the rest of the food on his plate. After he was done, he turned to Mustache Kid and held her hands in his freezing cold hands. “Thank you, thank you, thank you for this wonderful gift. I’ll cherish it, I’ll love it. Never forget it, thank you new friend!” He repeatedly thanked her, his breath hitching as he started to mumble incoherently to himself. He then stood upright, seeming to have snapped back into reality. “It seems like it’s getting dark! None of you, none of you are leaving, r-right? GOOD! Good, I guess that means that we can have a slumber party. You – YOU will join us, won’t you New Friend?” He asked the child, as ice started to form on her legs.

Mustache Kid sat on the pillow pile on the floor, bored out of her mind. Since her bombs are gone and this guy can freeze her in an instant, fighting her way out is out of the question. So is straight up running for the exit. For now, she just has to play along with it. However, the only entertainment right now was watching him start up conversations with the frozen people besides him. And even then it wasn’t really funny. Just sad. She would perk up whenever he spoke to her though. Mainly because he could kill her if she didn’t answer. “Oh, sure! I agree! No way!” After a long while of talking, the Prince stood up. “Okay everyone! I’ve gotten everything prepared for tonight! A nice view, snacks…wait. No, no snacks??” His head rotated 180 degrees (grossing the kid out a bit), facing the empty table meant for housing the refreshments. How could he forget? He should have thought this through! He has a new friend he needs to impress, and this is his first impression? A forgetful dumb stupid idiot who disappoints everyone he meets? He could feel the hateful stares burn up as he backed out of the room. “I’m, I’m going to go get the, snacks. Friend! New Friend, can you come with me?” He practically tugged Mustache Kid out of the room, and downstairs into the kitchen.

Mustache Kid gathered up what small amount of treats she could find in the abandoned cabinets on the table, as the Prince got ready the tea. A couple of crackers, and some preserved fruits. She turned to the Prince, who was shaking as he continuously stirred the tea. At the very least, he was a lot nicer than the Matriarch. “Not many snacks…are there?” She questioned, more out of concern for how he’s been living all this time. While she figured that ghosts don’t need to eat to live, it seemed to cause the Matriarch pain when she missed a meal, imagine living with only this. The Prince put the tea kettle on the tray, along with the cups, before answering. “Hang on, there’s more, I’ll get them.” He walked hurriedly to a hollow spot in the walls, before sliding it aside to reveal some bigger snacks, such as a bag of fish chips of the CC brand and a slice of velvet jelly cake. All of it seems to have been frozen to last, the velvet jelly was absolutely solid when he placed it on the table. Mustache Kid grabbed the snacks, as the Prince carried the tea tray upstairs. “By the way, I’m sorry for being so forgetful. It’s really awful on my part, I hope you can forgive me.” He told her, as they set the tea and snacks down. Of course she’d forgive him, it’s not like he has anything he needs to apologize for.

The night seemed to have gotten better. The two were now talking about law, and frankly hearing about this planets views on justice and law enforcement was pretty interesting. Until he got into the nitty gritty details of it. Not that it was boring, it was just the simple fact that they have all these policies and fallacies and such. But it isn’t complex! There are bad people who need to be arrested, like the Matriarch, whole there are good people who arrest the bad, like herself! Still, she listened intently to his rambles about law theory. Something the Prince isn’t used to! Usually when he rambles to people, they ignore him. It always made him feel like he didn’t matter but when he asked Mustache Kid if she was listening she actually responded! Mustache Kid took a sip of her tea, and grimaced. The tea was ice cold. Which was understandable since the person who made the tea could freeze things with his bare claw hands. But there was also the fact that she actually wasn’t a tea person. The Prince caught on to this. “Is there something wrong? Is it not good enough? I’m sorry I’ll make a new kettle if you hate it-“

“It’s good, it’s okay!” Mustache Kid assured him, almost becoming numb from the ice that had formed up to her knees. It was thin, luckily. She placed a hand on the Prince’s shoulder as he calmed down. “Oh, I’m sorry I just got worried and…” He eventually stopped talking as he leaned into her arms, humming as she petted his head. He liked this, it’s nice. She’s nice. Most of his other friends didn’t hug him like that, they didn’t even tell him nice things. He’s heard of BFFS, Best Friends Forever. Maybe people that nice are BFFs? The Prince never had enough friends to tell. He’ll need to hide her from Vanessa. She’ll come and burn him again, and maybe even burn his new BFF like everything other bit of happiness he hoarded. He didn’t want to think of that. Whenever he did his mind devolved into this dark place he can’t get out of. “So what’s the next event on our list of fun?” Mustache Kid asked, distracting the Prince from his thoughts. “A dance.”

#ahit #a hat in time #swap au #the prince #mustache kid #ahit au #ahit swap au #the matriarch

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marielambs-corner · 3 years

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HEY!!!! Happy (belated) HOLIDAYS!!!!!!!

StrawberryAeris, I'm sorry I'm kinda (pretty) late with this. I wanted it to be great and perfect and something you'd truly enjoy, but time caught up on me and well, I thoguht dividing it into chapters would be better than keeping you waiting ^^u

So, with no more ado, Here I bring you the beginning!!!

Hope you enjoy this and that you had some wonderful holidays, and wishing you a happy and healthy 2021!!!

Enjoy it!!

*See Tumblr version under the cut*

Days were becoming cold and nights chill in the old New York as winter already settled in. And in the old studio, through cracks and loosely boarded holes in the upper levels, snow could be seen gently falling and covering any crevasse with its white blanket, and a little toon-shaped Dancing Demon was truly amused by its sight.

It's not like Dancey hadn’t seen snow before, it was always a sort of spectacle for the little demon. Though always his experiences with it were from as far as possible; first through the old reels with cartoons of the original Bendy, and currently, just admiring how it delicately piled up between the cracks that still exposed the studio to the outside world. There was only one time he dared to play with it, too amazed and curious, wanting to replicate what he saw in the cartoons, and that was an immediate mistake, for the ink that composed his body froze at the direct exposure, and everything from his forearms to the tips of his fingers totally paralyzed; any attempt at moving his limbs resulted in a painful crack, his ink breaking apart like a crumbling cookie from the movement strain. It took about a couple of hours and quite an amount of fresh ink from the machine to gain back mobility, another hour for the dullness and pain to ebb away, and a whole week of constant nagging and reprimands from his big sibling for him to understand to never do something like that, ever again.

Not like anyone else would believe how caring and protective the Ink Demon truly was, but he just was like that, always with an eye over the Dancing Demon, and with rules to make sure the little one wouldn’t get into much trouble.

If only the rest could see him the same way as Dancey saw him...

Watching the snow fall, though, really put the little demon in quite a nostalgic mood, thinking on his sibling, on the cursed creatures below, on how he’d like them to enjoy something as simple as snow as much as he did, or soup, or music! That’d be so nice, for all of them just enjoy the simplest things.

What was not so nice was the coldness. A chill draft leaked through the crevasses, sending goosebumps all over the demon’s body, shaking and rattling like the toon he was. He crossed his arms, rubbing his upper arms in a bleak attempt at keeping some heat, but wasn’t enough. Either he just dropped the snow-gazing, or went to find something to wrap himself up.

...the first choice meant to go back to the lower levels and that’d also mean no more fun at the snow-gazing, so even if his big sibling didn’t approve, checking on the old locked closets in hopes to find something useful was it. And just as he expected, most of them were locked. Some, though, would budge if he was insistent enough, and it was the case for 1 door out of 13 he tried, with the door busting open so strong it sent Dancey rolling all across until he hit the opposite wall, upside down.

Shaking out the dizziness, he quickly recomposed himself and went to check on the now-open closet. A corner had a box full to the brim with bacon soup cans—a small victory he’d save for later. A few projectors occupied a shelf in a haphazardly manner, as if just thrown over in there, thing that surely would upset the Projectionist if he came to know about it. A stack of paper used another corner of a shelf, self-explanatory given how close he was from the old Art Department. And in upper shelf a box, which contents couldn’t decipher due to the location and height; he’d have to climb up to get it.

Lucky for the Dancing Demon, he was rather light in weight, and the shelves still were pretty sturdy, so climbing them was not a problem. What meant a problem was taking the box itself; as soon as he edged it to take it down, its weight immediately followed gravity curse and, with Dancey being helpless as he had to use at least one hand to hold himself as in a ladder, the box went straight to his face, pushing him and making him drop his hold on the shelf, falling and being squashed under the box’s weight.

A little undignified “Oof!” was released along with a grunt, but sooner than later, Dancey once again recomposed himself, sitting up and checking on the box’s content. Indeed, there was some pieces of cloth, he could use one to cover himself! It was soft but a bit raspy with some strange patter and, of course, covered with dust. Seemed like an old sweater long forgotten by time. Well, he now could give it new purpose as his own winter sweater!

What else was in the box? His curiosity mused to himself.

There were a couple of tapes, maybe he could play them later in one of the recorders, ask Sammy for help. There was also a tied-up bunch of some yellowing paper/cardboard thing, he wasn’t sure, as it was thin as paper but rigid as cardboard. Could be both? They had some pretty pictures in one side while the other had smeared ink that made what was once written in there unintelligible. The bottom of the box was filled with little reddish-brown—maybe withered—balls along with crumbles of leaves that kept turning into dust the more he rummaged around the box (he gave a guess of it being old dry leaves, from what he’d seen of those strange plants that keep growing in the deepest levels when their leaves fall). And last thing was a smaller box inside.

With solemnity and anticipation, he took the smaller box, pushing aside the bigger one. In expectance for something, he didn’t know what, slowly, dramatically slowly, he placed his hand on the lid, and inched its way open. What he found inside were... pictures, old, yellowing, some fading, but still pretty recognizable. The pictures, of course, were from the old times, when the studio still worked as a studio and not the cursed place it currently was. They varied from people standing alone, in couples, in trios, or bigger groups; some blurry from movement, some sideways, but most capturing the moment without the people noticing, letting them to just do whatever they were doing and it being captured by the images. They all were varied, but given how the people wore the same clothes photo after photo and how the background seemed to be pretty alike in every take, the only conclusion Dancey could get to was that these all were taken the same day. But that as a way to discard any other options and confirm some suspicions, as there was some other thing that caught his attention.

Admittedly, he couldn’t recognize all of the people in the images, but some, he was familiar with them, and among them was a way too familiar face.

Joey Drew.

No matter who in the wrecked studio, everyone was capable to recognize such name and face. The sad and sour (and almost angry) taste his image left in the little demon’s mouth, though, was not rival for his still growing curiosity as to why people in the pictures was so happy and comfortable around him. He kept studying the images, and even he had to admit, Joey’s smile seemed almost... real, authentic. Maybe it was a real smile.

A picture showed him with his arms slung around Sammy and Norman, and even if they both seemed like they just rolled their eyes, there was a smirk, a smile in their faces, over Drew’s antics. Another one showed a group of three people sitting where they could, as they unwrapped some small boxes and opened their lids to see their contents, with smiles, warm, tender, excited smiles in their faces looking what was inside, as Joey was standing in the middle, rather smug. Another showed the janitor and the toy-maker, Wally and Shawn, that were holding Joey down, or maybe pushing him down, as Wally jumped over his back and Shawn was hanging from his neck, and Joey was still smiling, maybe even laughing at the antics. Susie hugging him and giving him a peck on his check, making him smile with eyebrows shot upwards, and his face even looked darker in this one. A side-hug from Mr. Piedmont, both grinning and giving thumb-up to the camera. Even Mr. Cohen was in one, smiling with tiredness but smiling nonetheless, while sitting on a chair, showing something he picked up from one of those wrapped boxes, and Joey beaming, standing right behind him.

All the pictures were like these, with smiles, and laughs, and joy, with lights strings, and a decorated tree, and bushy garlands, and ribbons, with people wearing sweaters with strange patterns, holding mugs whose steam was still visible through the old images, and one was wearing a hat with a couple of leaves and some little spheres—like the ones at the bottom of the big box—hanging of it (those in the picture caught below such garment, no matter who they were, were kissing, with varying kinds of faces they’d do while at it, but the one wearing the hat behind them always sported a triumphant grin from ear to ear).

Figurative gears were churning inside the Dancing Demon’s head. One thing he was sure of, and that was he liked what he’s seeing. He liked to imagine that was actually full of color, like purples and blues and greens and oranges (very little was his experience with color, only what he managed to see from the cracks in the upper levels, just like the snow, but was enough to make his imagination blow up with the possibilities, especially in a sepia toned hellish place like this).

They all, he also concluded, looked happy. Were happy, even with Joey being there. Maybe regardless of Joey being there. No, still didn’t sound right. Definitively was with Joey being there. But why? Wasn’t he the most despised person in the studio? Definitively, the pictures were not from before the Ink Machine times, as he could see some dark pipes gleaming in the background of some pictures. What made this day so special that everyone could be... okay with him there? Happy with him there? Was he forgiven? ...No, definitively not that, it had to be something else. Was the day itself? A day to leave behind differences? No-quarrels-allowed kind of day? A truce day?

...Truce day...

That... that’s it! It had to be! They made a truce for the day? After all, it was pretty obvious that people still loathed Joey up to that day, but still in these pictures, they were able to put aside their differences and spend at least a single day, merry and happy.

He really would like that something like that happened to them now, for them to be able to be together like this, regardless...

Why not try it?

...yeah... Yeah! Why not! He even could invite everyone in the studio! The lost ones, searchers, the Butcher Gang, miss Alice, just- Everyone! Even Inky... Excitement grew more and more in his minute body from all the possibilities. Dancey sprawled the pictures, trying to identify and mentally list everything in there so he could recreate it as close as possible. He might not have had an idea of when it was actually made, but the people in the pictures wore sweaters, and he does feel like in a sweater season, collecting the rest he found back in the big box and taking the pictures back in their own container, and back in the box too. If he wanted this to work, he truly had to pan out this well and smoothly. But first of all, and before anything, he had to go and show Inky.

*-*-*-*-*

Expect next chapter in a couple of days~ ^^

#BATIM #Bendy and the Ink Machine #Secret Satan #For StrawberryAeris #StrawberryAeris #Bendy #The Ink Demon #The Dancing Demon #Dancey #Ink Guardian #Ink Guardian AU #Truce Day #Lamb's work

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